


Occupational Hazards

by padalelli



Series: Supernatural AU Bingo [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Ex, Alternate Universe - It's a Terrible Life (Supernatural), Amnesia AU, Angst, Blind Date, Blowjobs, Car Accidents, Drama, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hair Kink, Heaven's Basement Rooftop Bar, Hospitals, Jealousy, Long Distance Relationship, Mechanic!Reader, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Proposals, Puppies, Roadsmith's Auto Crew, Sabotage, Sex, Sharing a Bed, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Tattoo Kink, Tattoo Shop AU, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unprotected Sex, Veterinarian AU, Violence, alcohol use, break ups, dog walker au, hairdresser au, heated arguments, idiots to lovers, lovers to idiots, makeout sessions, mistaken delivery, racer!reader, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29317560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padalelli/pseuds/padalelli
Summary: Chapters 1 & 2:Busy Afternoons// DogWalker!Reader / Veterinarian!Sam*Chapters 3 & 4:Next Door// TattooArtist!Reader / Hairdresser!Sam*Chapters 5 & 6:In Sickness & Health// EMTDriver!Sam / Racer!Reader
Relationships: Adam Milligan/Reader, Castiel/Meg Masters, Dean smith/reader, Jo Harvelle/Dean Winchester, Michael/Reader, Sam Wesson/Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader
Series: Supernatural AU Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121162
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Busy Afternoons

**Author's Note:**

> Created for @spnaubingo  
> Squares Filled:  
> (1) DogWalker!Reader  
> (2) Veterinarian!Sam  
> (3) Tattoo Shop AU  
> (4) Hairdresser!Sam  
> (5) EMTDriver!Sam  
> (6) Amnesia AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find yourself temporarily relocated to Kansas from your home and boyfriend on the West Coast. Alone and with nothing on your social calendar, you accept when your new neighbor asks you to help take care of his dog during his long work shifts.

“I’m about to go for a jog babe, but have a great day at work!” you told your boyfriend over the phone.  
“Okay, hun. You too. I love you,” he replied, and you could hear his smile even over a thousand miles away.  
“Love you too, bye.” You hung up and slipped your phone into the pocket of your yoga pants before opening the door and heading out of your new apartment.  
It had been about a week and a half since you arrived in Kansas, having been relocated from the West Coast. Since you and Adam had already invested a year into your relationship, he insisted on trying things long-distance until he was able to follow you there, or you were relocated somewhere closer to him again.  
You agreed because you _did_ love him, and you knew he had every intention of keeping that promise. But even after only a week, you missed having someone to share your bed with, and you began to fear that you’d fade away from each other. So you made it a point to call him every morning and every night.  
You were jogging through the wooded area of the park you lived adjacent to when a large rottweiler sprinted past you, his leash dragging on the ground behind him, ownerless. Your instincts took over, and you couldn’t let him become another lost dog that got put down at the pound for being the wrong breed, so you clapped your hands together a few times to catch the dog’s attention before squatting down on the ground and beckoning him over to you.  
At first, he just stood there, his ears perked up and his head slightly tilted as he stared at you, determining if you were a friend or not. He must have decided you were, because eventually he trotted over to you and began a thorough inspection with his nose, shoving you back onto the ground.  
“Okay, buddy,” you chuckled, embracing your new position on the ground and taking hold of the leash. “Your person must be running around here somewhere looking for you, huh?” You grabbed the dog’s collar by the time he started licking your face. “Yeah, you’re a real killer,” you muttered sarcastically, pulling the collar back so you could look at the tag. “Dean.”  
“DEAN!” yelled a much deeper, more frantic voice from afar.  
The rottweiler simply looked at you with a shameful face, hanging his head on his shoulders while his owner continued to call out for him. “Over here,” you shouted, clueing him in to his animal’s location. You scratched the back of Dean’s neck before rolling onto your knees and standing up again, leash in hand.  
When you turned to face the voice, you were met by an incredibly tall man with broad shoulders and shoulder length brown hair-- not to mention a puzzled look on his face. “Wait, he came to you?” he inquired, turning his glare to Dean the dog.  
You shrugged, extending your arm to hand over the leash. “Yeah, was he not supposed to?” you jibbed.  
The man shook his head, glancing down as he took the leash back from you. “He doesn’t like strangers, so I guess I’m just surprised is all,” he explained, one corner of his lip slightly turning up in a smile. “I’m Sam,” he introduced himself, extending his free hand for you to shake.  
“[Y/N],” you replied as you shook his huge, calloused hand.  
“I don’t mean to pry, but do you happen to live in the neighborhood? I’ve never been able to find someone Dean didn’t instantly attack…” Sam wondered.  
You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure what direction he was headed with this. “Yeah… Um, why do you ask?”  
“I just work long hours. Noon till about ten p.m.. And I’m sure Dean would appreciate having some company and a little exercise at about the halfway point. If you’re willing, that is. I know I probably sound pretty presumptuous right now, given that we just met and I don’t even know what your schedule is like--” he rambled.  
“Sam,” you chuckled, cutting him off. “I usually get home around five-thirty. And if I’m being honest, I could use some company in the evenings myself, even if it’s this rambunctious guy,” you gestured to Dean. “My only condition is that you keep your kitchen stocked so I can feed myself dinner in return for the favor.”  
“My kitchen is always stocked,” Sam replied. “It’s healthier fare, too.”  
“Eww, like, kale and quinoa?” you questioned, scrunching your nose up at the thought. “What did I just agree to?” Sam looked confused and disheartened at your words. You put him out of his misery quickly by adding, “I’m joking! I’m not a full-on vegan health nut but it’s not all grease and garbage either.”  
He looked relieved at your words. “Okay. Are you busy now? I could show you my place and where Dean’s leashes and stuff are. I mean, if you want to. It doesn’t have to be now. I could just give you my number or address and you could come by--”  
You cut him off again. “Sam, now is fine. I’m already out and about, and as long as you don’t have to rush off somewhere...” you trailed off, shrugging. “Plus, I don’t think Dean would let you murder me-- that is, if you were planning on that.”  
Sam led you back to his unit, Dean having gotten plenty of exercise during his joyrun. He was only a couple of buildings down from you. “I do have to head to my shift in a couple of hours, but you certainly don’t have to swing by this evening if it’s an inconvenience to you,” Sam told you as he removed Dean’s leash and harness once inside. “Like I said, I’m just appreciative of the fact that Dean didn’t try to bite you or anything when you got ahold of him. He doesn’t like people.”  
“Lemme guess, he’s a rescue?” you asked, looking around at Sam’s apartment, spotting the hooks with a various collection of collars, leashes, and harnesses, and the basket of toys below.  
“Yeah, my dad got him for me when he was just a puppy. But he still struggles with the concept of new people, seven years later… That, and circles,” he added, making you laugh.  
You called Adam after you got back from walking Dean that evening, playing with him only briefly before heading home. You didn’t rummage through Sam’s fridge this time, knowing it probably wasn’t well prepared.  
“Hey, sweetheart,” Adam answered, slightly out of breath.  
“You okay?” you asked, furrowing your brow. You hadn’t even been gone two weeks, no way he was fucking someone already.  
“Yeah, yeah, just had to sprint across the street because some guy decided to run a red light,” he explained, his breathing still rugged, verifying that he was walking.  
“Oh my god, are you okay?” you exclaimed, wondering why he didn’t look both ways to begin with. But you couldn’t say that out loud, that would sound ridiculous and overbearing.  
“Yeah, baby, I’m fine. I’m getting in my car now,” he reassured you, his car door closing in the background. “I just wanted to call you before I got home from work.”  
“Why’s that?” you asked playfully.  
“I’ve got dinner with my mom tonight and you know how she is about that stuff.”  
“Well, yeah, but it’s me. You don’t think she’d want to say hi?”  
Adam huffed out a sigh before replying, “I think she’s still not loving the idea of me following you out there.”  
You shook your head, not wanting to have this discussion again. “Adam, I never asked the company to send me here. You know that.” In your head, you added, _I never asked you to follow me out here because I know how important your family and job are to you_.  
He didn’t want to rehash the argument either. “I know, I know. Following you was my idea.”  
“You know, they’re more than likely going to send me right back over by the time the year is up. Don’t set anything in stone, okay?” you reminded him. “I’m sure we’ll be able to save up for that nicer place we wanted to move into by then, yeah?”  
He said, “Yeah,” but he sounded unsure.  
“Okay, well, I’ll let you get going so you can get home and get ready. I love you,” you murmured before hanging up. _Is he mad at me?_ You couldn’t help but think he was with the way he was acting; the dinner with his mother wasn’t going to help your case either.  
You got a text as you were about to slip into a bubble bath-- but what surprised you was that it was from Sam, thanking you for walking Dean tonight. That lifted your mood slightly, given that Sam was incredibly kind and considerate.  
*  
You quickly fell into a routine of going over to Sam’s after work to exercise Dean, have dinner, and head home. You started making enough for two and leaving a serving behind for Sam in the fridge with reheating instructions. You knew he was one to care for himself, but being so busy had to have its drawbacks. It was also another way to say thanks-- for allowing you into his home, to play with his dog, and to eat his food.  
As you were walking home from Sam’s one evening, your cell phone rang. “Hello?” you answered.  
“Hey, baby,” Adam responded, catching you slightly off-guard when he used a pet name. He had been a little off lately and hadn’t been as affectionate, even verbally.  
“Hey babe,” you replied. “You sound like you’re in a good mood. What’s up?”  
“I got a promotion. Which means I get more _freedom_ ,” he told you in a sing-song voice.  
“That’s great babe!” you exclaimed as you walked into your apartment. “This freedom, does it come with a raise?”  
“The raise is the freedom, hun,” he scoffed. “Plus I can choose to work from whatever branch I need,” he added.  
_Ugh, this again_. “Why are you so convinced I won’t come back there?” you wondered.  
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he argued.  
“Then what are you worried about, babe?”  
“It might not be up to you in the end. Just like it wasn’t up to you when they sent you out there to begin with.”  
“And we will cross that bridge when we get to it. It’s only been a month. Okay?” The truth was that you didn’t want to think about what was going to happen during your remaining eight months (in theory) in Kansas. “Let’s talk about something else. Like your promotion. Did they throw you a party and everything?” you changed the subject.  
At least he snickered on the other end of the line. “Kind of. Nothing too crazy. What about you, how are they treating you out in Lawrence?”  
“Yeah, things are going pretty good. I mean the highlight of my day is probably walking the neighbor’s dog, but you know how much I love dogs…” you rambled.  
“Wait, walking the neighbor’s dog? You’ve been there a few weeks and one of your neighbors pays you to walk their dog?” he questioned.  
“No, I don’t get _paid._ I get to play with a dog and eat a free dinner,” you explained.  
“Oh, well that’s nice I guess. Good dog?”  
“Oh, yeah. He’s awesome. I mean, Sam said he doesn’t like people but he seems to like me just fine. He looks vicious, but he’s really just a big sweetheart,” you mused about your new best friend, Dean the rottweiler.  
“Doesn’t like people? Looks vicious? What is it with you women and your rescues?” he teased, assuming Sam was short for _Samantha_ , and that your neighbor was another woman.  
“What’s that supposed to mean? Whatever. His dad gave it to him.”  
Adam paused on the other side for a moment. “Wait, _his_ dad? This neighbor is a guy? So when you said you get a free dinner--”  
You cut him off right there, stopping him before he could even start. “He lets me raid his fridge and cook dinner for myself, he’s not taking me out on dates. He works ten hour shifts, so I check on his dog when I get home from work around the midpoint in his shift. I don’t even see him really, just his dog.” Your boyfriend seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Even if that wasn’t the case, what about me walking a man’s dog has you so worked up?”  
“Nothing, it’s not… I’m sorry babe. It’s like you said, things are hard for women. And I don’t want anything bad happening to you because of some asshole,” he told you.  
“Don’t worry. If Sam tries to hurt me I’ll just train his dog to kill him in his sleep. That’s how much the dog likes me,” you said matter-of-factly.  
That got a laugh out of your boyfriend. "As long as you're sure you're safe." Adam sighed and went quiet.  
"Babe? Where's your head?" You inquired, attempting to pull him back to your conversation.  
"I miss you. I think I may take a trip over in a couple of weeks; once I get settled into the new role at work, that is," he responded, sounding hopeful.  
"We'll have to see what happens. I miss you too," you told him.  
*  
But another month later and Adam had yet to bring up the visit again. _I’m sure things are just hectic,_ you reassured yourself. After all, he did just get a promotion, and not only did that come with its perks, but also more work… And then he did bring up the subject. “I don’t think I’ll be able to visit soon like we planned,” he admitted sheepishly.  
You knew he was working hard and that he was probably just as disappointed as you were, but you couldn’t help the resentment that was beginning to root. “Oh. Okay.” You didn’t know what else to say. It had been his idea to visit to begin with, then he decided to just not talk about it for a month before cancelling altogether? There wasn’t anything else _to_ say.  
“I’m sorry…” he apologized, his voice full of guilt.  
You shook your head even though he couldn’t see. “No, it’s okay. I know you’re really busy. Maybe another time.” You tried not to let the disappointment seep into your voice. “I gotta go to work soon, I’ll talk to you later?” But you didn’t give him a chance to respond before you hung up, blinking the tears out of your eyes.  
Taking care of Dean when you got home from work that evening lifted your spirits. It was like he could tell something was wrong-- but then again, he had a canine’s intuition. He was laying in his dog bed while you cooked dinner for the night, when the door opened, and he let out the smallest little _‘boof’_ to alert you of Sam’s presence.  
“Oh, hey, I didn’t realize you’d be coming home so early,” you said, glancing at him. “You didn’t text me, did you?”  
“No, I just… forgot, I guess,” he replied, setting his bag down on the ground by the door while the rottweiler got up and trotted over to greet him. “Plus I didn’t think you’d mind the extra company, given that it is _my_ apartment and _my_ food you’re cooking.”  
“Oh, is that how it is?” you giggled. “You think you can just barge into your own home anytime you want just because I’m cooking for two?” you teased.  
Dean sauntered back over to you, laying at your feet while you finished cooking dinner. “Are you okay?” Sam blurted after a few moments of silence.  
You finished distributing the food across the plates, handing a sliver to Dean before sitting at the kitchen island with Sam, passing him his plate. “Fine, why?”  
Sam shook his head. “Nothing, Dean’s just being really affectionate with you. Usually dogs do that when something’s wrong. Especially _this_ dog.”  
Sighing and taking a few bites of your food, you brushed off the matter… for a few moments. “I just…” you started, needing to vent to someone who could actually verbally validate your feelings. “My boyfriend was supposed to come visit soon, but he cancelled.”  
"Did he say why?" Sam asked between bites. He looked genuinely concerned; he thought with the way Dean was acting that it was more serious than you were letting on. Of course, he hadn’t even realized you were in a relationship to begin with, but he brushed that part aside.  
You sighed and ate another mouthful. "He got a new promotion at work and it's been really busy. The trip over is just too much time for him to take off right now."  
"Ah," Sam whispered, remaining silent.  
Instead of continuing the conversation, you finished your meals with only the sounds of silverware scraping on plates. After you were finished, you brought yours and Sam's plates to the sink and started filling it. Sam washed the dishes (including the ones you used in your prep work) while you dried them, when your pocket began to vibrate with a phone call.  
You wiped your hands on the towel you were using before answering it, stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room area when you saw it was Adam. “Hey. What’s up?” you answered.  
“I wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier. I was putting work over you and I truly am sorry... So I booked a flight for the weekend after next. Tickets purchased and everything. Even if you have to work, we’ll figure it out. If I have to, I can do some work while you’re gone and we’ll have all the time we can together after,” Adam told you.  
“Oh, really, Adam? That’s awesome!” you exclaimed, excited that you’d finally get to see your boyfriend after two and a half months. “I can’t wait. I should actually be off that weekend.”  
“Perfect! Well, I know you have to unwind and everything, so I’ll let you get back to it... I just wanted to let you know and apologize for how I might’ve come off earlier.”  
“Dean, outside,” Sam commanded from the kitchen.  
“Uh, who was that? Is someone at home with you?” Adam questioned.  
“Oh, that’s just Sam. He got off early and forgot to text me not to come over. I was just about to head home when you called.”  
“Oh,” he responded quietly. “So is this a regular thing, Sam coming home early?”  
“No, babe,” you sighed, frustrated that he didn’t seem to trust you enough to let you be in a room with another man. “But you know, there is a first time for everything.”  
“Uh huh,” he muttered, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your… whatever.”  
“Okay, it sounds like you’re upset with me. Did I do something wrong?” you begged for an explanation as to what was going on to make him like this. But you decided not to wait for an answer when you said, “No, you know what, I’m walking home now so we can talk. We need to talk; it’s been too long since we had a real conversation. And don’t even try to tell me that phone sex counts as a real conversation.” You started for the door when you heard the pitter patter of paws behind you. “Hey, Sam I’m sorry, I gotta go,” you called back to the kitchen before leaving.  
“Oh, no worries,” he stuttered out, but you were already gone. He looked down at Dean and told the dog, “Well, that was a little more personal than expected.”  
Dean raised his eyebrows as if to respond, _‘You’re a moron.’_  
The walk home was quick as you listened to Adam’s explanation. “It seems to me like you’re more comfortable with this Sam guy than you let on,” he started.  
“Are you serious? This is literally the second time I’ve seen him in person. I handle his dog while he’s at work. That’s it,” you responded, getting increasingly frustrated with the way he was acting.  
“Right. That’s what you keep saying, but you were comfortable enough to take my call in front of him,” he tried to argue.  
“First things first, I did step away for privacy. But more importantly, do you _want_ me to hide what I’m doing? There is _less than nothing_ happening between Sam and I,” you defended, nearly yelling as you walked inside.  
“I believe you, and I trust you. But I don’t trust him,” he told you, letting out a sigh.  
“That shouldn’t matter if you _really_ do trust me. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. I know you think you’re being chivalrous and all, but you can put your worries away. I love you and you’ll be here with me soon-- can’t we focus on that?” You tried to comfort him.  
You finally heard another one of those long-distance-smiles when he said, “Yeah, no, you’re right. I’m sorry, sweetie.”  
*  
“My baby boy is moving halfway across the country for you and you don't even care! You're just slutting around waiting for him to break up with you!I never understood what he saw in you. You just move away and think you can treat him like he's nothing, and you still don't care when he chooses you over me!” Adam’s mother yelled from the other end of the line as soon as you picked up the phone a few days before his visit.  
“Woah, I’m sorry, _what_?” you spat back. “Slutting around? Treating him like he’s nothing? What the hell are you talking about, Ms. Milligan?” Then you decided you didn’t even want to hear it, so you hung up.  
You never asked for him to choose sides, and you were quite certain that whatever conversations he’d had with his mother were way off base regarding the truth if this was what she thought of you. And it was _not_ okay. So you dialled up Adam. “Adam, what the fuck have you been saying to your mother about me? Or rather, what has _she_ been saying to _you_ about me? Because we clearly have a problem,” you confronted him as soon as he picked up.  
“What are you talking about?” Adam asked, clearly confused about what was going on.  
You stormed into your bedroom and put your phone on speaker before throwing it onto the bed and ranting, “Oh, I just got a phone call from your mother talking about how she never liked me, and I’m slutting around and waiting for you to break up with me, and that I don’t appreciate how you choose me over her. But I never asked you to choose, Adam, so where is she getting these ideas from?!”  
“Well, I mean I had to cancel some plans with her to come out and see you…”  
Burying your face in your hands, you countered back, “Did you tell her that I asked you to do that?”  
“Not exactly. I just said that you were upset that we hadn’t been spending a lot of time together and--”  
“And what, Adam? Didn’t you explain that you were missing me? And why does she think I’m slutting around?”  
He hesitated before answering. “Maybe because I told her you were with Dean every day for an hour or so, plus then the thing with Sam happened so I told her about that too.”  
“Okay well did you tell her that Dean is a _dog_ , Adam? And that I have literally met Sam _twice_ and that he works nights? Why are you talking to your mom about me like this anyway?”  
He paused again, meaning whatever he was about to say would only escalate the argument. “Well… Now that I’m thinking about it, I may have forgotten to mention that Dean was a dog.”  
You sighed exasperatedly, flopping onto your bed. “Just… just stop. You know what, Adam? I think I need a little time to process exactly what’s going on with us, because from where I’m standing, it seems like you and your mother are twisting things against me. All I’ve done is support you, and all I’ve asked in return is that you support me too.”  
“Oh, so suddenly I’m not supporting you?!” he accused.  
“Convincing your mother that I’m the devil isn’t exactly supporting me, Adam. No matter how much you try to disguise it. Don’t bother visiting this weekend, go talk to your mother,” you grumbled before hanging up the phone and screaming into your pillow.  
Somehow, when you told him not to visit, instead your boyfriend heard, “Please come see me so we can argue about stupid shit some more, except this time in person.”  
But once you were actually together again, you started to feel like maybe you could get through this. He was here, after all, which meant he wanted to make it up to you somehow. Exactly how just wasn’t quite clear to you yet, but regardless, you at least went to sleep happy to be sharing a bed again.  
_Your boyfriend was hunched over you on all fours, ramming into you from behind, the angle allowing him to go deeper than he ever had before. “Oh yeah, baby, feel so good around my cock,” he grunted in a husky voice-- a voice you quickly realized didn’t belong to Adam, but Sam. “Come for me baby,” was the last thing you heard before you were pulled from the dream._  
Waking up with a start, you noticed Adam’s morning wood pressed against your ass, his hand tucked into your sweatpants, fingers brushing over your wet folds. “Good morning,” he murmured as he trailed kisses along your neck.  
It was then that you knew everything was _not_ okay just because he was here. Yanking his hand away, you rolled out of bed and began pacing your bedroom. “Adam, I… I said I needed space,” you stuttered.  
He sat up, confused. “What are you talking about? Everything was fine last night…”  
“My point is, I asked for space and instead you showed up at my front door,” you huffed.  
“I already booked the trip, you know that…” he said disappointedly.  
“That’s not my fucking point. You haven’t listened to me once since I moved out here. And I just don’t know if I can do it anymore…” you admitted hoarsely, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t know why you were crying-- instinct, maybe?  
Finally, he moved to get up out of the bed. “What do you mean? Can’t do what?” he questioned, clearly still unable to interpret your words correctly.  
“I can’t do this long distance thing for another six months. Doesn’t matter if you visit. I’ll still know how much your mom hates me for it. And I don’t want you to choose me over her. Not anymore.”  
“So what, you’re just breaking up with me?”  
“Yeah, I guess I am.”  
*  
You avoided Sam at all costs for the next month, not wanting to risk experiencing some kind of awkward encounter with the man after the dirty dreams you’d had about him. The same dreams that had led you to break up with Adam.  
But when Dean started hacking up his food every five minutes, that was cause for concern, and you were forced to bring him down to the animal hospital where Sam worked.  
“[Y/N],” Sam said in surprise when he saw you in the lobby with Dean-- about as well-behaved as he had ever witnessed his own dog. “What’s wrong with him?” There was only a slight note of panic in his tone.  
You shook your head. “I’m sure it’s no big deal, but he keeps spitting up his kibble all over the place. I cleaned as much as I could, but…” you trailed off, handing Dean’s leash to Sam.  
“Okay, no worries, I’ll make sure everything’s fine,” he reassured you before taking Dean back. Deciding to wait there until he returned, you took a seat in the lobby and started biting your nails, hoping the dog was okay.  
It was only about fifteen minutes before Sam came back out to the lobby with the rottweiler, almost glaring at the dog. “Is he okay?” you asked as you stood up, striding over to them.  
“Yeah, he’s fine now. But you should probably keep an eye on him while I finish up here, and I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he replied as he handed the leash back over to you, shooting the dog another dirty look. “Hey, are you okay? I haven’t seen you in like a month…”  
Well, you couldn’t have avoided it forever. “Yeah, no, I’m great. Just haven’t crossed paths, I guess,” you claimed, shrugging.  
Sam let out a stiff chuckle before saying, “See, I’d be more inclined to believe you if you didn’t just say ‘yeah, no’ back-to-back. Come on, you can be honest with me.”  
“I had to break up with Adam last month…” you admitted hesitantly. “And things have just been a little rough, I guess.” Like the way you fucked me in the dream I had about you. But you would never say that part aloud. “Anyway, I’m gonna take Dean back. Don’t rush on my account, I’ll stay with him all night if I have to.” If Dean was just fine now, you didn’t want Sam to worry about taking his time with the rest of his shift.  
Dean was perched on top of you while you watched tv on the couch when Sam got home. You assumed the dog would get up to go greet his owner, but that was not the case. Instead the rottweiler continued to keep you pinned to the couch. “Hey, no more accidents?” Sam checked when he came in.  
“Nope, he’s pretty much just been on my lap this whole time. My legs are starting to fall asleep, though, if I’m being honest,” you answered.  
Sam chuckled as he sat his bag down. “One sec, I think I’ve got just the thing to help out with that,” he replied, disappearing into his bedroom-- you assumed to change into some comfier clothes.  
But not only did he do that, he also grabbed a bottle of wine from… somewhere. You couldn’t exactly watch his every movement with the way Dean was positioned on top of you. Sam went to grab a couple of wine glasses from the kitchen before coming over to join you on the couch. Only once he poured the wine did the dog finally release you from the pressure of his weight, marching over to his dog bed across the room while Sam passed you the wine glass.  
“You said things have been rough lately? Do you wanna talk about it?” he wondered, gently prodding the subject.  
You did want to talk about it, but you weren’t sure that talking about it with Sam was the best idea-- especially now that wine was a part of the equation. “I just…” You gulped down a couple of sips before continuing. “I thought we loved each other… that he loved me as much as I loved him and vice versa… But I don’t know how I got it so wrong.” You brought the wine back to your lips. “I never should’ve come out here,” you mumbled.  
“I’m sure none of that is true. Sometimes things just don’t work out… And there’s nothing you can do about it. But that’s okay.”  
“Doesn’t feel okay,” you argued. The truth was that did feel like everything was your fault, that you crumbled your own relationship. And even though it was almost a month ago, your heart ached with the hole in your chest that Adam left and no one else had filled. Well, no one but Dean. But he was a dog.  
Sam draped his arm across the back of the couch. “It never does. Even when it is okay. Doesn’t mean you can’t get through it.”  
“I’m just… literally so alone now…” You heard a distant whine from Dean, then scoffed, “The closest thing I have to a friend is a dog that isn’t even mine.”  
You finished off the glass of wine while Sam shook his head and opened his mouth to argue. “Just because you don’t see me much doesn’t mean we’re not friends, [Y/N].”  
You grabbed the bottle from the coffee table and refilled your glass with half of what remained, leaving the rest for Sam. “We can’t be friends right now, Sam,” the words accidentally slipped out of your mouth.  
He furrowed his brow and set his glass on the coffee table. “Why not?” he probed, cocking his head slightly as he looked at you in confusion.  
“I just can’t right now,” you rambled before going to take another drink.  
Sam took the glass out of your hand and put it next to his on the table. “Did I do something?” he wondered, blaming himself.  
You shook your head, looking down at your lap. “No, it’s nothing to do with anything you did. Like I said, things have been rough lately. Just leave it at that.”  
"Somehow I'm not convinced," Sam pressed, knowing there was something you weren't telling him.  
You looked into his hazel eyes, intending to deny his responsibility again, when suddenly you were met with an uncontrollable urge to kiss him. Acting on impulse, you leaned across the small gap between the two of you and pressed your lips to Sam’s.  
Across the room, Dean’s head perked up at the scene unfolding. Sam didn’t say anything, nor did he pull away from you, rather he slid his hands around your hips and pulled you into his lap, deepening the kiss. When you finally pulled away for air, he asked, “Is it bad that I wish I could’ve done that a month ago?”  
It definitely made you feel less insecure about the dream you’d had. “No,” you murmured, shaking your head as you went in for another kiss. Sam rolled you against his hips, making you all too aware of his erection pressing against you, and you slid back off of him and onto your feet, standing up. “I should probably go,” you stuttered nervously, your voice cracking towards the end of your sentence.  
Sam was clearly disappointed by the loss of touch, and even more disappointed by the idea that you were going to leave. “I’m sorry, I--” he began to apologize when you interrupted.  
“You didn’t do anything. I promise,” you reassured him, making sure you had everything on your way to the front door. “I just need to get home, it’s getting late,” you made an excuse before exiting the unit, practically running back to your own with… _giddiness?_  
The man turned back to look at his rottweiler with suspicion. “You planned _all_ of that, didn’t you?” he questioned the animal, who looked back at him with innocent eyes.


	2. Busy Afternoons Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your break-up with Adam, you grow closer to your neighbor Sam, who has some situational drama of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Created for @spnaubingo // Square Filled: Veterinarian!Sam

“You planned _all_ of that, didn’t you?” Sam accused Dean. The rottweiler looked back at him with innocent eyes. “I know you faked being sick,” the owner muttered before leaning forward to down the rest of the wine in the glasses on the table and standing up to shower before bed. Dean followed Sam into his room with a smug look on his face, settling at the foot of the bed.   
Sam should’ve realized that his coworker would give him a hard time about what had happened the next day when he went in to work. “Sam,” her voice was already full of spite.   
He sighed and turned around. “What, Amelia?” he snapped back.   
“Really, Sam?” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “Getting your dog to pretend to be sick for a _girl_?” she accused.   
Sam was taken aback. He had picked up on the fact that Dean had faked his little ‘illness’ last night just to bring [Y/N] to him, but he’d taken absolutely no part in it. Was he happy to hear you were single? Sure, but how would he even _train_ Dean to do that? _And then you started making out with him on his couch… And god, your lips were so soft…_  
“So you’re not even gonna acknowledge me?” Amelia’s voice brought him out of his daze.   
“No, I’d rather not, actually,” he sneered before stepping aside. He wasn’t about to defend himself to _her_ , the woman who was constantly trying to get in his pants, despite the fact that she was married, simply because her husband was away in the military. He resented her, so no, he didn’t feel the need to acknowledge her or provide an explanation.  
*  
 _You found yourself straddling Sam’s lap again, continuing your makeout session from earlier. Then his hands started exploring your body, running over your skin and alerting you to your naked state-- and Sam’s. You’d never seen him naked before, but fuck if he wasn’t sculpted like a god.  
He pulled you impossibly closer to him before sliding his erection into your wet heat and making you moan out in pleasure. “I’ve wanted this for so long…” Dream Sam whispered in your ear while he thrusted in and out of you. “You deserve to be with me…” _  
“Fuck, Sam,” you gasped yourself awake. Alone in your own bed-- it shouldn’t have been as jarring as it was. It was nearly impossible now to deny that there was something between you and Sam, but you forced yourself not to make anything of it. Your schedules still prevented you from seeing each other very much, so it would be silly to get your hopes up like that anyway.  
But it was hard not to get those hopes up when you checked your phone and saw a long text from Sam; it was a sweet note thanking you for making sure Dean was okay all night, followed by a string of compliments that almost brought tears to your eyes. Even when you were with Adam, you never woke up to long heartfelt messages like this.   
_Get over him_ , you chastised yourself. _The way he was acting was not okay, hindsight or not._ You’d never had a second thought about Sam until Adam started interrogating you constantly; what Adam didn’t realize was that he was the one who had pushed you right into Sam’s arms. You decided you were done feeling guilty, and responded to Sam’s text with a heartfelt note of your own.   
You began to wonder why you panicked last night and ran out so quickly-- was it because you weren’t ready, or because you didn’t _want_ to be ready? It had been a month since you broke up with Adam, so what was holding you back? _You_ initiated the kiss, and Sam was _really_ into it (and so were you) before you left in a panic.   
When you went out for your morning jog, you ran into Sam and Dean again, but this time Sam was able to hold onto the leash while Dean dragged him across the path after spotting you. Or maybe Dean _wasn’t_ dragging Sam-- maybe Sam was actually running to you, too.   
"[Y/N]!" Sam called out as he made his way to you.   
"Hey Sam! Hey Dean!" You responded, pulling your earbud out of your ear and kneeling down to pet the dog.  
"Just starting or just finishing?" Sam asked, a friendly smile on his face.  
"Just finished. I'm dying for a shower now, but luckily it’s my day off," you chuckled, standing back up. "Looks like you guys haven't even broken a sweat yet."  
"Yeah, we're just starting. We'll let you go get your shower. I'm sure you smell amazing still, but I know how it is after a run," he joked, pulling the leash to get Dean's attention.  
"Have a good run! See you later Dean!" You bid the pair farewell and went home to have a nice, relaxing shower.  
When you got to Sam’s that night, there was a bouquet of daisies on the counter and an envelope propped up against it with your name on it. _Hmm. Sam didn’t say anything this morning. Maybe this little letter will…_ you thought to yourself. “Dean, do you know anything about this?” you waved the envelope at the dog briefly before opening it to read its contents.   
_“[Y/N], I can’t stop thinking about last night… And I know you’ve been going through a difficult time lately, and although I don’t have the most convenient schedule, I want you to know I’m here to talk after my shift whenever you need. You deserve a thank you for taking such good care of Dean. (And me).”_  
“Aw,” you murmured to yourself, grinning from ear to ear. _He couldn’t stop thinking about our kiss…_ You hadn’t been able to either. And it might’ve been strange with your breakup not that far behind you, but you felt like Sam might honestly be good for you. _If you’d ever get to spend some more one-on-one time, that is._ You sat the envelope back on the counter and looked at Dean, who was looking back at you a little too knowingly. “Alright, Deano. Let’s get going. You look like you have a lot of energy to burn,” you told the dog, making your way to his leashing area.   
He certainly did have a lot of energy pent up, still running around in circles by the time you got back to Sam’s apartment almost an hour later. “Oh, so you’re gonna make me play with you now, huh?” you sassed the animal after he knocked over his toy bin, plushies and nylabones spilling onto the floor. “Okay, after dinner, and only if you help me pick up these toys.”  
Once Dean finally settled down, you laid out across the couch and turned the tv on, Dean the dog hopping up to curl up into a ball in front of you, like a little nest. That’s how Sam found you when he got home that night, the dog’s head perking up while he made no movement to get up so as not to disturb you in your sleeping state. Sam’s lip curled up in a smile that you had stayed, even if it was just because you fell asleep. _Maybe Dean planned that somehow, too…_  
Sam almost didn’t want to wake you up-- you looked so peaceful. His pet could tell, so the dog turned to look at you and plant a big wet kiss across your face, thinking it would be a pleasant way to wake up. “Really, Dean?” his owner chastised when you began to stir awake, clearly confused. The rottweiler countered back with his signature puppy eyes.   
“Shit, I didn’t know I fell asleep,” you grumbled as you moved to sit upright on the couch, reaching your arms behind your back and stretching, arching your chest forward to release the tension in your muscles while you rolled your neck around on your shoulders to do the same, Sam’s gaze lingering on you the entire time.   
Dean, however, was staring at his owner as if to say, _‘Really, Sam?’_  
The man shrugged it off. “Don’t worry about it. Dean exhausted you, didn’t he?” he guessed.   
Chuckling, you nodded and stood up, “Yeah. He barely gave me time to make dinner.”  
“I’m sorry. Let us walk you home so you can get some real rest. I’m sure you wake up early,” Sam offered.   
“Oh, wherever would you get that idea from?” you teased as you walked over to the kitchen counter to retrieve your flower bouquet. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to.”  
His face softened. “I know, I wanted to,” he replied. “Come on, let’s get you home.”   
The walk back to your building gave you and Sam enough time to learn a little more about each other— things like how Dean the dog was named after Sam’s brother that died fighting fires, not even twenty-six years old yet. His dad John got the puppy for him a few months later; something of a peace offering.   
When you got to the door of your apartment, Sam told Dean to sit, but the dog couldn’t care less, and just stared between you two while his butt wagged along with his tail. “Or not,” Sam mumbled, noting his dog’s refusal. He’d had the pet for seven years, had him trained fairly well, too, until you came along. He had to wonder if Dean would continue to misbehave like this with you around.   
You chuckled. “I’m sure he’s just excited because he thinks he’s going to get to see my house.” You looked down at the dog. “Sorry to disappoint, buddy.”  
Sam snickered to himself, waiting for you to look back at him again. “Hey, uh, I was wondering… Would you like to have breakfast with me this Saturday?” he asked.   
You would’ve been more surprised by his proposition if you weren’t holding the bundle of flowers he had waiting for you earlier that day. “I’d love that, Sam.”  
“Great,” he chirped. “Great. I’ll uh, I’ll text you later with a time?” You nodded, but didn’t move; neither did Sam. He shifted his feet and you noticed his eyes flit down to your lips as he started moving towards you. You moved to meet him, closing your eyes, your lips meeting halfway, and Sam’s hand coming up to cup your cheek.   
Dean started skipping in half-circles around the two of you while you were caught up in the kiss. Pulling away after a few moments, you said, “Well, I should go get some rest. Goodnight Sam. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean.”  
“Night,” Sam bid as he tugged at the dog to follow him back home while you unlocked your door.   
You wandered over to your kitchen, opening the cabinet under the sink where you’d put an old vase your mom sent with you for god knows what reason. After filling it with water and getting the daisies situated inside, you placed the vase on the dining room table where the plants would get plenty of natural light from the windows. As soon as you got undressed and hit the bed, you were out like a light. 

*  
 _Sam was leaning against the hood of the impala with his brother Dean, who was playing fetch with the rottweiler in the open field they were parked in. “So, tell me about this girl you’re taking on a breakfast date,” the young firefighter goaded. “Which, by the way, lame. No woman wants to go home with a guy in the middle of the day.”  
“She doesn’t have to come home with me, Dean, it’s just breakfast. Plus, we technically have the same address anyhow,” Sam chided back.   
“Whatever. What’s she like?”  
“Her name is [Y/N]. And she… well, she loves dogs, goes on morning jogs, cooks a pretty good fresh meal… And, I don’t know, she’s kind and thoughtful and--”  
“Yeah, but is she hot?” Dean interrupted, still throwing the ball for the dog that was named after him.   
Sam scoffed. “She’s not just hot, Dean, she’s… I mean she’s perfect…”   
“Careful now,” Dean warned. “You don’t know what kinda baggage she has yet.”_  
The man was about to tell his brother that it didn’t matter, that everyone had baggage, when he woke up that Saturday morning. Rottweiler Dean looked back at him from his position at the foot of the bed, letting out a huff. “What?” Sam sassed the animal, who grumbled back. “Shut up.”  
He looked at the clock and found himself wondering if she would be on a morning run today-- their breakfast date wasn’t until nine and usually she was finished by seven. But then he figured she probably took a break on the weekends. Or maybe she just didn’t want to get sweaty when she had a date later that morning, but that would be assuming she considered this date (this _first_ date) more formal than work.   
_Wait, but doesn’t anyone?_ He questioned himself, quickly spiraling into his habit of overthinking when it came to her. Well, whether she would be outside or not, Sam had to take Dean for his morning walk. Sam got out of bed and Dean immediately ran to the leashing area, impatiently waiting while his owner got dressed to go outside.  
While out, Dean kept tugging the leash to go over to your apartment-- a location he evidently quickly memorized. Sam was having trouble keeping his attention until he saw you doing yoga on the balcony of your unit, and Dean finally sat at his feet and locked his eyes on you. “I’m not the alpha anymore, am I?” Sam wondered quietly, trying to figure out the best course of action since he was clearly not in charge of the route anymore.   
Fortunately, you went back into your apartment after a few minutes; once again you were finishing your exercise right as Sam and Dean were starting theirs. “Come on, let’s go,” Sam beckoned, pulling the leash back in the direction of their normal morning path.   
Although your yoga routine didn’t work up quite the same sweat as your morning jog, you decided you still wanted to take a shower before you went on your breakfast date with Sam. _But what do I wear?_ You asked yourself. You’d never really gone on a breakfast date before now that you were thinking about it. _Do I just treat it the same as a regular date?_  
No, there had to be a reason he wanted to take you out during the day, so you decided to go a little more casual, and opted for a cute set of black denim overalls that hugged your curves just right. You paired them with a white t-shirt underneath and a few bracelets to top off the look, grabbing an oversized flannel to take with you in case you got chilly.   
Sam knocked on your door right on the hour, and you wondered if he had been standing there waiting for the clock to turn. And not that you had been expecting Dean to be with him, but it was a little odd seeing the man by himself. “Hey, Sam,” you greeted him cheerfully. “What’s for breakfast?”  
“Well, I was thinking we could go to this little diner across town, if that’s okay with you,” he told you as you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you. _She looks so cute_ , he thought.   
“As long as they have French Toast, I’m game,” you replied, walking alongside him on the way to his car.   
“French Toast? I thought you liked eating healthy meals,” he teased.   
“Hey, I said I wasn’t a full-on vegan health-nut. I can appreciate some good breakfast when I have the opportunity,” you defended yourself.   
Sam chuckled to himself before stopping at an old, black, incredibly well taken care of muscle car. “It was my brother’s,” he explained when he saw the confused look on your face, knowing that most people didn’t expect him to be the kind of guy to drive a ‘67 Impala. And he wouldn’t, if it wasn’t for his brother threatening to haunt him if he ever let anything happen to his Baby. Not that Sam was superstitious, of course.   
“It’s beautiful,” you commented, your eyes raking over the vehicle. _This family had good taste._  
He scoffed before opening the passenger side door for you. “No thanks to me. My dad helped me take care of it for a bit until he passed a couple of years ago. Lucky for me, Mom’s just as handy and she’s been showing me the ropes.”  
“So it’s just you and your mom?” you wondered as you climbed in.   
He nodded before circling around to the driver’s side and taking his seat behind the wheel. “Yeah. But we have a big found family, so it’s never really just the two of us.”  
“That’s good,” you remarked.   
“What about your family?” he pried.   
“They’re around, but we’re not that close. It’s fine, though,” you admitted, feeling guilty as you said it because at least they were there. Sam couldn’t say the same about his big brother and father.   
“You’re not telling me you’re all alone out here, are you?”  
You shrugged. “I guess I am, yeah.”  
“Well then I’m not taking no for an answer, we’re gonna spend some more time together,” he determined.   
“What?” you chuckled. “When?”  
“I’ll get up earlier so we can go jogging together. And we can do breakfast every weekend,” he suggested.   
“You barely even know me,” you argued.   
“That’s the point of this date, isn’t it?” he countered back. “Besides, if you weren’t someone I’d enjoy spending time with, Dean wouldn’t like you so much.”  
“I suppose you have a point.”  
When you got to the diner, the two of you were seated in a booth by the front window. After ordering a couple of coffees, you turned back to Sam, resting your arms against the table. “So, if I might ask, why are you so intent on spending time with me?” you wondered.   
“Did you have someone else you’d rather spend your time with?” he answered with a question of his own. “You’ve only been here, what, four months? No family in town, no roommate…” he trailed off, figuring it would be impolite to continue by saying _‘no boyfriend’._  
“Well, you’re right about that… Very observant, Sam.”   
“It is kinda in the job description,” he joked.   
You shook your head, chuckling. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I am kind of a loner. But in this particular situation it’s not by choice.”  
“Yeah, uh, your company moved you out here, right? How long are you supposed to be here for?”  
“In theory, just another few months. But these kinds of things always start out temporary and don’t necessarily stay that way. So who knows?” you mumbled, your thoughts drifting elsewhere.   
“You don’t seem very excited by the prospect of sticking around,” Sam noticed your change in demeanor.   
“No, it’s not that, it’s just… I don’t even know if I’d wanna go back home anymore,” you confessed. Going back meant living in the same city as Adam, and you didn’t want to deal with that kind of drama. Besides, it would also mean leaving Dean without anyone to take care of him during Sam’s long shifts, and you couldn’t leave him hanging like that.  
“Does this have something to do with the boyfriend you broke up with?” Sam gently inquired.   
You scoffed, “Exes, amiright?”   
“Do you mind if I ask what happened? You know, just so I don’t do anything stupid,” he added, trying to cheer you up.   
He succeeded, at least a little. “He wanted to do the long-distance thing, but he didn’t trust me nearly enough to make things work, long story short,” you explained, trying to keep it brief.   
Sam reached across the table to place his hand on top of yours. “I’m sorry to hear that. He’s an idiot,” he comforted you, his hazel eyes boring into your soul, full of sincerity and compassion.  
You flipped your palm up to hold his hand, your lip curling up in a smile. “Thanks.”   
The two of you enjoyed the rest of your breakfast before heading back to your neighborhood, aware of the fact that Sam was on call in case of work emergencies. Later that afternoon, he ended up having to go in; since he had no clue how long he’d be there, he texted you and asked if you could check on the dog for him while he was away, to which you happily said yes. 

While you were sitting at home that evening- you’d just gotten back from Sam’s place after walking the dog- there was a familiar knock on your door. You answered it to see Sam standing before you. “Sam, hey, is everything okay?” you asked in a panic, worried something may have happened to Dean in the brief span of time that you’d been gone before Sam showed up at your door.   
His lips were on yours within seconds, pushing you back into your apartment as he kicked the door shut behind him. _Well, this was certainly not what I was expecting_ , you thought to yourself as you relaxed into the kiss, the feeling too good to pass up.   
“Sam,” you gasped as he picked you up by the waist and placed you on the edge of your dining table, his body pressed against yours while he worshipped your neck with his lips. “Jesus, Sam,” you breathed when he sucked at your pulse point and rolled his hips between your thighs, having to grab onto his shoulders to stay upright.   
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes wide as he murmured, “I’m sorry…”  
“Don’t be,” you replied breathily as you pulled his head back to yours for more. Sam smiled against your lips before lifting you up and carrying you through the open door of your bedroom, gently laying you against the mattress to resume your makeout session in the bed. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” you pointed out, figuring he moved things to the bedroom for a reason. Plus, you hadn’t had a dick inside of you (that _wasn’t_ in your dreams) since you moved out here, and honestly you were getting impatient. _You wanted the real thing._  
Sam rolled back onto his knees to begin undressing himself while you did the same, only managing to get your top and bra off by the time Sam was stripped down to his underwear, letting him drag the pants of your overalls down your legs and off of your body. “You’re so beautiful,” he marveled before leaning down to start a trail of kisses along your collarbone, continuing down to your breasts and teasing your nipples with his lips.   
“Sam, please,” you whined, arching up into him when he sealed his mouth around one nipple, circling it with his tongue a few times before turning his attention to the other and repeating the action. “Sammm,” you groaned, your pussy clenching with every moment he wasn’t inside of you.   
Finally he continued his path down your body, slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties before dragging them down your legs and throwing them aside. “Don’t you worry, I’m gonna take care of you,” he cooed before dipping his head between your thighs and licking a stripe up your soaked folds.   
Throwing your head back, you cried out in pleasure as Sam’s tongue roamed your pussy before finally landing against your clit. “Oh, god, please fuck me, Sam,” you begged, bucking your hips as he sucked at the sensitive bud.   
He snickered darkly before returning his attention to your outer lips, one of his hands reaching back to rid himself of his underwear. When he returned to hover over you, he placed a wet kiss on your lips, allowing you the slightest taste of yourself before asking, “Condoms?”  
“Nightstand, top drawer,” you told him, tucking your lower lip between your teeth in a coy smile. The man reached across the mattress to retrieve one of the foil packets laying loosely in the drawer, impatiently tearing it open before kneeling back and rolling the condom over his shaft down to the base. Instead of getting right to it, he dove between your legs again, evidently unsatisfied with the work he had done there.   
He was doing heavenly things with his tongue, and you had to wonder if you were dreaming again, your hand tangling itself in Sam’s long hair. “Told you I’d take care of you,” his voice vibrated against your pussy, the pressure in your core ready to snap. Sam could tell, too. “You don’t have to hold back for me…”   
And _fuck_ , the rumble in the back of his throat made it impossible to even try anymore, and your orgasm washed over you while your body trembled and your legs tightened around Sam’s head. Sam crawled up to you while you came down from your climax, his cock nudging at your entrance. “Please,” you begged again in a whisper, pulling his lips to yours while he pushed into you, making you groan while your vagina adjusted to accommodate his large size.   
“You okay, baby?” Sam checked, needing to be sure you were comfortable before continuing.   
“Mhm, yes baby, now please move,” you whined back, rolling your hips for some kind of friction. Sam reached down to hitch your legs around his waist before thrusting into you at a steady pace while he sucked a mark into your neck. “Ngh, Sam,” you moaned, raking your nails down his back as he rammed into your sweet spot, the feeling even better than how you dreamt it.   
Sam wrapped his arm around your waist and rolled back onto his knees to pull the two of you into a sitting up position before stretching his legs out in front of him and continuing to buck up into you, this time pulling your face to his to kiss you soft and slow, the same way he was taking his time fucking you. From there, it wasn’t long before the two of you were coming undone together, your kiss becoming a battle of teeth and tongues, swallowing each others’ animalistic noises while you rode out your highs. Sam fell back onto the mattress and you collapsed on top of him, still wrapped around him and breathing heavy as you laid the wrong direction across the bed.   
“Woah,” you panted while he wrapped you in his arms, his fingers tracing light circles along your smooth skin. You could hear his heart racing in his chest while he worked to catch his breath. “So, um… What brought you over?” you squeaked, concerned you’d ruin the moment, or worse his mood.   
He sighed exasperatedly, as if he had been avoiding the topic. _Was he just using you as a distraction?_ You began to worry. “I, uh… Just figured there was no point in dragging things out… I really like you…” he confessed.   
“What about our inconvenient schedules?” you reminded him, but more importantly yourself. Not to mention you might be leaving in five months anyway, and you weren’t going to even try the long-distance thing again after all the drama Adam caused. You slowly slid off of him and made your way to the bathroom to pee.   
“You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’m gonna find a new job,” he told you, sitting up on the bed and removing the condom as cleanly as he could.   
After finishing up in the bathroom, you sauntered back over to your bed, crawling in under the covers and fixing your gaze on Sam. “I don’t want you to quit your job for me, Sam. We’ve been on one date,” you argued.   
“I won’t have to,” was all he said back.   
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You furrowed your brows, your gaze lingering on him as he went to dispose of the used condom and then throw his boxers back on before climbing back into bed with you.   
“I don’t want you to worry about it,” he replied.   
“Well, now I’m even more worried. Sam, did something happen at work? Did you get fired?” you questioned.   
“It’s no big deal,” he brushed it off.   
“Yes it is! Oh my god, this is my fault isn’t it? Because I brought your dog in for no reason the other day?” you panicked, instantly blaming yourself. You’d never forgive yourself if you got Sam fired.   
“No, [Y/N], it’s not your fault, I promise. Things just weren’t a good fit there,” he reassured you, but you remained unconvinced. “I’ll find a better clinic with better hours and better coworkers.”  
“So you’re not even going to tell me the whole story? After _that_?” you asked, gesturing between the two of you.   
“You didn’t tell me the whole ‘Adam’ story,” he countered defensively.   
“Pardon me for thinking you wouldn’t want to hear all the gritty details about my most recent ex, given the circumstances.”  
“Wait, what circumstances?” Sam caught the last three words that slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Did you break up because of me?” he panicked.   
“No, we broke up because of _Adam_ ,” you answered. If he wasn’t telling you the whole story, you weren’t telling him.   
“What circumstances are you referring to, then?” he questioned, not letting it go.   
“Nothing, I didn’t mean it like that,” you denied.   
“I got fired because of a coworker,” he blurted. “Your turn. What happened with Adam?”  
You slumped back against your pillow, not wanting to give up that easily. “Fine. I broke up with him… _partially_ because of you. But if you want more information than that, you’re gonna have to give up some of your own.”   
Sam seemed to be up to the challenge, scooting closer to you and sliding his bicep behind your neck to act as a pillow while you cuddled up against him. “My coworker told my boss that I’m constantly having Dean fake illnesses to get dates,” he fessed up.   
You wanted to know more, but you knew you owed Sam another piece of your story first. You took a deep breath before telling him, “Adam kept thinking I was spending way more time with you than I was. Then bitched about me to his mother, who then called me a slut.”  
“Ouch,” he commented.   
“Yeah. Why’d your coworker say that stuff about you to your boss?” you inquired, wanting to get to the bottom of this recent development.   
“She’s just a bitch,” Sam stated simply. “She’s had a vendetta against me ever since I rejected her because she’s married and, quite frankly, I just wasn’t interested.”  
“But how’d she even get your boss to believe her?” you wondered, figuring she couldn’t have been reputable if she was willing to start an affair. Sam sighed again, not wanting to freak you out with the rest of the truth. You could sense his hesitation. “Sam, you can tell me.”  
“She had pictures. Of you at the vet, Dean’s negative test results… the two of us on our date this morning. She was across the street and saw us through the diner windows. So she decided to get hard evidence against me while she had the chance.”  
“So you _did_ get fired because of me.”  
“Honestly, [Y/N], it’s okay. I hated having to deal with her every day, and I can find a job with a clinic that will give me better hours so we can actually see each other.”  
“Sam… I don’t know what to say…” you mumbled, looking up at him. “I don’t want you to think--”   
He pressed a finger to your lips to silence you. “Stop right there. What I think is that I want to make you happy. No matter what it takes.”

*  
Then the day came when your assignment in Lawrence was up. You were given the offer to stay there, as you’d become a valuable part of the office team, or return to California, where your previous position was waiting for you, and you had two weeks to decide. But you weren’t sure that either option appealed to you. Lawrence was still fairly small, and Amelia had caused enough career problems for Sam already since getting him fired.   
“What are you thinking?” Sam asked as you were cuddled up on his couch that night, Dean curled up at your feet.   
The last five months with Sam had made life enjoyable again, and you didn’t care where you were as long as he was with you. “I don’t know… I just don’t wanna leave you… I love you, Sam,” you told him for the first time, your eyes glued to his face to see how he’d react.   
After a moment of shock, Sam’s lip curled up in a dopey grin. “I love you, too, honey… And I don’t wanna leave you either,” he murmured back. “So wherever you go, I’m coming with you.”  
You shook your head. You couldn’t ask him to come all the way back to the West Coast with you, or to drag Dean along with him for that matter. “Sam, that’s insane, California is thousands of miles away,” you argued.   
“I never said California. I said wherever you are.”  
The next day at work, one of your bosses asked you to head out to Lebanon over the weekend to scope out a potential new office space for the company. Knowing it was only a few hours drive, you invited Sam to come with you, offering to bring Dean along too for the ride.   
“Looks kind of small,” you commented once you were actually in the unit with Sam, Dean happily waiting behind in the impala with the windows cracked and the AC running (and the AC/DC). “What kind of practice did you say this used to be?” you asked the realtor.   
“Veterinary. Only one in Lebanon,” the realtor answered nonchalantly. He must not have had pets.   
“Wait, so there’s not a single veterinarian in all of Lebanon?” Sam asked in astonishment, glancing over to you before asking, “Where do people take their animals?”  
“I reckon they call one of those mobile vets to make a house call, but boy are they pricey to get out here,” the realtor commented.   
You took a second look at the space, thinking it was definitely too small for your company to get anything out of it. But then you looked at Sam, and saw the gears turning in his head. “What were you thinkin’ about back there, babe?” you asked him as you got back in the car, Dean jumping forward to lick your face. “Dude, chill out,” you told the dog, shoving him back.   
“Lebanon doesn’t have a vet…”   
“I know, that’s crazy. Why wouldn’t the owner of that place make sure there was someone to take over in his place?” you replied as Sam pulled the car out of the parking space.   
“I bet he would’ve if he’d had someone to take over for him… Did your info sheet say anything about the seller? A name or address?” Sam inquired.   
“Why, so you can go offer to buy his business?” you were joking, but the way Sam looked back at you told you that he wasn’t.   
*  
That’s how you ended up quitting your job to help Sam restart the veterinary practice in Lebanon. With the price of the real estate out there and the income you were anticipating from running the town’s only vet clinic, you and Sam were able to go in on a house together with a massive backyard for Dean to run around in.   
Within the first week, someone came in with a stray husky they found in an undersized crate on the side of the road, unable to take him home with them. After checking the dog over and finding no sign of a collar ever having been present, nor a tracking chip in the animal’s neck, you and Sam brought the husky home, being very cautious when introducing him to Dean, worried he may be skittish of the rottweiler.   
Said worries were unjustified, because as soon as they sniffed each other out, they were inseparable. “We’ll need to name him. There is no way Dean is letting him out of his sight,” you pointed out as you and Sam sat on the back porch together, watching the mutts chase each other around the yard. “Something to do with those piercing blue eyes… or Thursdays…”  
“Because today is Thursday?” Sam questioned, messing around with you.   
“Your deductive skills are impeccable, darling,” you gave him a hard time in return. “What about Castiel?” you thought of the angel you learned about as a child.   
Sam pondered for a moment before nodding and saying, “Yeah, it fits.”  
*  
Three months later, Sam disappeared towards the end of his shift, nowhere to be found. “Hey Charlie, have you seen Sam?” you asked one of the techs you’d hired to help out.   
“Not for about an hour or so, why? Anything I can help with?” the redhead offered.  
“No, it’s no biggie as long as we don’t get any walk-ins for the next half hour,” you told her. It was unlikely that you would, so there was no reason to sweat it. You were able to leave as soon as the office closed, with Charlie offering to clean everything up for the night while she practically shooed you out of the building.   
When you got home, Dean was waiting in the living room, a piece of paper dangling from a string around his collar that said, _‘Follow me’_.   
“Where are we going, Dean?” you asked the animal while he led you through the house to the back door and out to the backyard, where Cas was waiting, another piece of paper rolled up within the keyring of the tag on his collar. You leaned down to grab the scroll, unrolling it as you stood up straight again, furrowing your eyebrows. “What’s going on guys?” you asked the dogs as you straightened the paper out and rotated it to read the words that were written on it in Sam’s messy handwriting.   
_Will you marry me?_... Huh? This couldn’t be happening. When you whirled around, Sam was down on one knee in front of you, Dean and Cas sitting on either side of him while he held out the small velvet box that contained his mother’s engagement ring. “Will you marry me?” he reiterated verbally.   
“Yes!” you squealed, jumping into his arms when he stood back up. “A thousand times yes!”


	3. Next Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The timing couldn’t have been worse. Why couldn’t you have met the guy that worked next door before all the crap in your life showed up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Created for @spnaubingo // Square Filled: Tattoo Shop AU

Sam was pulled out of his paperwork for the salon by a delivery person triggering the bell above the door and placing something on the counter. He stepped out of the office as the delivery person was walking out. Checking the card, he saw the flower shop had made a mistake and the bouquet in front of him should have been delivered to the tattoo shop next door.   
He made a note to go and drop it off when they opened in a couple of hours. Jody and Ellen were really the only ones he knew from over there, as they were the owners, and his coworker Donna had the tendency to go hang out with them on her lunch break.   
But today was her and his mother’s day off, so it would just be him, Cas, and Charlie at the salon today. Luckily there weren’t too many appointments on the books for the day. If a couple of those appointments hadn’t cancelled, Sam would’ve considered sending Charlie next door to deliver the flowers to their rightful owner, but that wasn’t the case, and he found himself somewhat bored by the time the tattoo artists arrived to open up shop.   
So, once he had given them plenty of time to do whatever needed to get done before they opened, he went over there himself. He had to clear his throat to make himself known to the blonde with her legs kicked up on the reception desk. “Give us fifteen minutes, Mr. Giraffe,” she remarked in a singsong voice, barely glancing up from her sketchbook.   
“I’m just delivering these,” Sam scoffed, setting the flowers down and adjusting his beanie. “They were sent next door by mistake,” he explained.   
“Oh, god, not this again,” she muttered, turning to face the back of the shop. “[Y/N]!” she called across the space.   
You heard Meg calling your name from the front desk and skipped out to see a bouquet of flowers resting on the counter, along with a man you were pretty sure you recognized from the salon next door. “What’s this?” you asked as you made your way across the room.   
“Got delivered to us next door, I’m guessing because you guys weren’t here yet. I just wanted to make sure they ended up where they were supposed to be,” the guy replied politely.   
You picked them up and looked at the card, instantly recognizing your ex-boyfriend’s handwriting. Sneering, you stormed out the front door and across the parking lot of the strip mall to throw them in the dumpster. The hairdresser had come back outside, staring at you in astonishment. “He sends any more of those, that’s where they’re supposed to be,” you told him.   
“Everything okay with this guy?” the stranger inquired.   
“Just fine. You work next door with Donna, right? I’m [Y/N],” you introduced yourself, eager to change the subject.   
“Yeah… Sam,” he answered hesitantly, holding his hand out for you to shake.   
His eyes grazed over your tattooed skin while you shook his hand. “Well, I appreciate that you haven’t been stealing our deliveries while we aren’t around, but I need to be getting back inside. I have an appointment coming in soon for a big piece,” you excused yourself to return to work.   
Later that night after you closed, more troubles showed up at your doorstep-- well, technically your _car_ doorstep, but same difference.   
“I told you I’m done, Michael, what don’t you get about that?” you hissed at your ex.   
“Funny, because it sounds like you think that’s your decision to make,” he replied, backing you up against your car.   
“That’s because it fucking is,” you spat, regretting the day you ever agreed to go out on a date with him.   
He propped his arms up against the car on either side of your head, blocking you in. “Come on, sweetheart, don’t you miss me?” he cooed, pressing his body against you.   
You swiftly lifted your knee to kick him as hard as you could simply to put some space between you and the man. “Does it look like I miss you?” you responded in a shout while Michael keeled over a few feet away.   
“You bitch,” he muttered before pulling himself back to his feet and lunging forward to grab you by the collar of your jacket and throw you down against the pavement.   
You were expecting even more of a beatdown if Michael saw you trying to get up and crawl away. Groaning in discomfort, you rolled onto your back and scooted up until you were leaning against the car, ignoring the stinging feeling on the side of your face that met the asphalt, instead focusing on the giant man who was now standing between you and your ex. “Walk away. Now,” he commanded, and you recognized the voice as Sam the hairdresser’s.   
Michael scoffed and glanced down at you, pointing to Sam. “You fuckin’ this guy now, [Y/N]?” he questioned.   
Sam stepped forward and shoved the other man back by the shoulder. “I said walk away,” Sam growled, clenching his jaw protectively.   
“Yeah, sure,” he snickered darkly before turning to leave the way he had come.   
“Are you okay?” Sam was already crouched down next to you and looking you over, although he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to spot any injuries beyond the tattoos that adorned your skin. Except for the scrape on your left cheekbone, caused by your fall to the ground.   
“Yeah, just fine,” you replied a little more bitterly than you meant to sound.   
“Do you want any help getting up?” he offered kindly, rather than just assuming you needed it. Clearly he’d seen you fend for yourself before coming out to break things up.   
“If you don’t mind,” you accepted, reaching out to take his hand after he stood up and held it out to you. “Thank you. For doing something. Most people don’t step in when they notice that kind of stuff happening.”   
“That the guy that sent you those flowers?” Sam asked as he helped you stand on your feet.   
“Yeah. But I love working for Ellen and Jody too much to quit my job at the shop. So I just do what I can to put up with it. Hopefully he’ll just get bored eventually,” you told him casually, considering this was a fairly regular thing for you to deal with for the past couple of weeks.   
“What? Are you kidding me? That’s not okay!” the hairdresser exclaimed in concern. “How long has this been going on?”  
You brushed the man off. “Sam, calm down. You helped me out a lot just now, but you’re not my knight in shining armor. I can handle most of my problems. You did your part, now I’m just gonna head home. Okay?”  
“You know, you’re bleeding…” he suddenly said, making you reach up to touch your cheek. “Can I at least give you a ride to make sure you get home safe?” he asked in a pleading tone. “I’ll bring you back here to your car tomorrow.”  
“If I say yes, will you stop being so paranoid for me?” you responded sarcastically.  
Sam’s lips curled upwards into a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll be less paranoid if you let me drive you home,” he replied.  
You shook your head, but you couldn’t help the way your own face\ turned into a smile. “Alright, fine,” you agreed with a sigh. “But I get to pick the music. You’ve got an aux cord, right?”  
Shaking his head with a chuckle, he turned around to lead you over to his car, a black dodge charger. “How can you be so casual about this?” he wondered as he opened his car door.   
“Casual about what?” you played dumb, ignoring his question while you got in the car and attached your phone to the usb cord as soon as you found it.   
“Oh, so that’s how you’re gonna be?” he teased back, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. “Tell me where to go,” he reminded you.   
Since your phone’s audio was already coming through the car, you went ahead and pulled up the gps on your phone to give Sam instructions home so you could relax for the duration of the car ride. “No need, my British-man-Siri will,” you stated, moving your focus to make your music selection, deciding to throw one of your favorite bands on shuffle.   
By the time the song reached its chorus, you were singing along cheerfully, drumming your hands on your thighs and acting as if you _hadn’t_ just gotten threatened and thrown around in a parking lot. Sam was perplexed, but impressed by your upbeat attitude about the whole situation-- although he wasn’t sure he should be. He was just so intrigued by how free-spirited you were.  
Plus, it helped the situation that you had chosen Greta Van Fleet as your music of choice, as it was one of his own favorite bands as well, and soon enough he was singing along with you. Once he arrived at your place, he waited for the song to finish before turning the volume down and facing you, prepared to let you get out of the car on your own (although he’d still make sure you got inside before leaving).   
"So what time do you have to be at work tomorrow?" Sam asked, trying to mentally work around his schedule in his head.  
"Actually, I'm off tomorrow," you admitted, "so you don't have to worry about me. I’ll get Meg to give me a ride the day after tomorrow."  
"Oh, okay," Sam mumbled, a hint of disappointment in his voice. He had really wanted to spend a little more time with you. He thought you could be someone he might like.  
"But," you countered, "would you like to come up? I was just gonna order a pizza and have a drink. It would be nice to have some company for a bit…you know, in case Michael tries to come over." You didn't really think Michael would show his face again tonight, but something about Sam was drawing you in. You wanted to get to know him better-- and everyone else at the salon seemed nice enough.  
“Yeah, I’d like that,” Sam accepted the invitation, hoping he didn’t sound too eager. “And I guess it would help me be a little less paranoid,” he joked, trying to earn a laugh from you-- _hell, at least a smile._  
He got both. “Good,” you replied, moving to get out of the car and lead Sam over to your apartment. “Hope you like barbecue chicken pizza,” you told him as you unlocked your front door.   
“Hey, pizza is pizza,” he happily responded, holding the door open behind you once you got it unlocked.   
“Well, Sam, I like that attitude,” you chirped, slipping off your shoes and hanging your things on the hooks by the door. “You can put your jacket up here,” you offered before gliding over to your kitchen. “I hope you’re not picky about your alcohol either, because all I have is hard cider, or Jack and Coke.”   
“I think we’ll take it easy and start with the beer,” he answered as he made his way over to your couch after leaving his shoes and jacket by the door.   
“I don’t bite, Sam, you can drink my whiskey if you want,” you laughed, but grabbed two bottles of beer out of your fridge anyway. 

*  
“Hey, um… You probably shouldn’t drive home right now. I don’t want you getting into any accidents because of me…” You made up an excuse for Sam not to leave by the time you had finished off the pizza, the six-pack, and a few shots of whiskey-- having ignored the soda. You barely noticed how late it had gotten, having been caught up in conversation with Sam.   
“But then whatever will I do?” he teased in his tipsy state, making you giggle. That had been his only goal throughout the course of the night- to make you smile- and he was a little too proud of himself for having succeeded.   
“Well, in case you didn’t notice,” you countered flirtatiously, “This couch we’re sitting on is actually just a shitty futon… That means you can sleep on it.” Sam had proven to be a real friend over the few hours he’d been there, and you could certainly get used to his company.   
“I know what a futon is!” he sassed back. “And there’s no way this one is long enough for my legs.” He wasn’t arguing because he wanted an excuse to leave, but rather an excuse to stay, just to talk to you more.   
“Okay then,” you offered, “I have a perfectly good king bed. You can sleep there and I’ll take the futon.”  
“No, I couldn’t put you out,” he argued, his sass having dropped once you offered to be uncomfortable just so he could sleep well.  
You didn’t notice when you started drifting closer to each other, almost like magnets. “Well, unless you wanna share my bed, those are your only options,” you insisted.  
“I’m not gonna make you share a bed with me, you hardly know me,” he said, but it sounded like he didn’t really mean it.   
“Well, you’re not driving home,” you murmured back.   
“Then I’ll sleep on the floor.” _Sounded like he meant that even less._  
“It’s a plenty big enough bed, Sam,” you whispered right before your lips pressed to his. Maybe it would’ve normally been against your better judgement to do something like this, considering he worked next door and you’d have to see him on a regular basis. But you’d never felt this comfortable with anyone in your life, _especially_ not Michael.   
Sam responded to your kiss with enthusiasm, gripping your hips and pulling you into his lap while he grazed his tongue across your lips. You ground your hips against his, feeling his growing erection and moaning into his mouth while he squeezed your ass.  
“Bedroom,” you told him breathlessly, kissing down his neck and jaw, earning a groan that rumbled from deep in his chest.  
“Where?” he asked, standing up with your legs around his waist.  
“Down the hall and to the left,” you directed, sucking love bites into his collarbone and working to blindly unbutton his shirt and push it back off of his shoulders.  
Sam was eager to undress you as soon as he reached the bedroom, pulling your shirt over your head and swiftly unhooking your bra. He shed off his own shirt before lifting you up and laying you down on the mattress while he dragged your pants and underwear down your legs, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothes. You sat up on the mattress to undo his belt and shove his jeans down just before he crawled over you, showering your skin with kisses.   
“Sam,” you moaned, threading your fingers through his hair as he made his way south, loving the way his lips felt against your skin.   
And he loved the way your skin felt underneath his lips, taking his time to marvel at each and every tattoo he could see while he migrated down your body. “So beautiful,” he whispered against your skin before dipping his head between your thighs, but you couldn’t even hear him over your needy whimpers.   
His tongue felt marvelous against your pussy, and he must’ve somehow known you better than you knew yourself, because he had you coming in record time. You had to reach back for a pillow to bury your face in to muffle the animalistic screams you were emitting while you rode out your climax, your body shaking uncontrollably.   
Sam waited until your body relaxed before snatching the pillow resting on your face and throwing it across the room so he could bring his lips to yours, sharing your juices with you. “Condoms?” he murmured against your mouth, his fabric-covered cock grinding against your soaking folds.   
_Truthfully, you couldn’t care less about condoms right now._ But instead you replied by reaching back to open the drawer of your nightstand and fish one out, playfully throwing it at him when you noticed he had somehow managed to remove his boxers by then. He made just as quick work of the condom, teasing your folds with his erection while you bucked up beneath him. “Need you inside me, Sam,” you panted, raking your nails down his back.   
_God, I love the way she says my name… She feels so good against me… She looks so good underneath me…_ Sam thought to himself before lining up with your entrance and slowly pushing into you, your pussy tight around his dick.   
You threw your head back into the pillow, reveling in the feeling of Sam’s thickness stretching your inner walls while he lifted your knees to wrap your legs around his waist. “Sam,” you gasped, “move. Please.” He chuckled and pulled back, leaving just the tip in, before slamming his hips back into you, earning a needy moan from you.   
Being the impatient woman you were, you leveraged yourself against the mattress with one arm and used the other to roll the two of you over so that you were riding him. Sam marveled at the artwork adorning your skin, entranced by the sight of you grinding your hips against his while he fucked into your sweet spot, your eyes closed, your head tilted up, your mouth in the most delicious ‘o’ face. _Fuck, so close…_  
Then your pussy was clenching down around him, milking him of his orgasm while you rode out your own, both of you eliciting animalistic moans before you collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms around you loosely, running his fingers through your sweat-dampened hair and kissing the top of your head. “Mmm…” you hummed contentedly.   
“Yeah?” Sam snickered softly, his hand migrating to trace the outlines of the ink on your back with his fingertips.   
“Better than apple pie,” you murmured teasingly before withdrawing yourself and getting up to clean yourselves off, drifting to sleep together in your king bed shortly after.  
*  
 _“Really? You think this is acceptable?” The dark-skinned, bearded man spat the half-chewed bite of steak on the floor. “What have I told you about that?”  
“Michael, it’s exactly how I’ve always made it,” you defended. “I didn’t use anything different and I didn’t cook it any longer or shorter.”  
“Oh, now you’re sassing me?” Michael questioned, moving towards you with malice in his eyes. “I’ll teach you to sass me.” He wrapped both hands around your throat, cutting off your air supply._  
Sam woke up to the sound of you gasping for air in your sleep. “[Y/N]?” he panicked, pushing you onto your back and cupping your face in his huge hands. “Baby, wake up,” he pleaded softly, unsure what to do.   
_“And this time, if I can’t have you, no one can…” Michael threatened just before the light blinded you._  
“What?!” you yelped hoarsely, your body jolting up from the bed.   
Sam was quick to pull you into his arms in a swaddle-like gesture. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay,” he cooed, stroking your hair.   
You relaxed into his grip and tangled your legs in his, cuddling up to him as you caught your breath. “Sorry,” you mumbled absentmindedly, feeling bad for waking him up.   
His response was immediate. “Don’t be. You’re safe now. I promise.”  
You felt even guiltier the next morning when you woke up and Sam seemed to be scrambling to get himself together. “What time is it?” you asked groggily.   
Sam shuffled over to you after sliding his beanie over his head, taking your face in his hands. “Fifteen minutes till my shift starts. I’m so sorry,” he rambled off before planting a firm kiss on your lips and rushing out of your apartment.   
“What just happened?” you asked yourself in your still sleepy state.   
Cas and Charlie instantly recognized the fact that Sam was still in yesterday’s clothes when he came in a few minutes late that morning, and started sounding off cat calls. “Shut up, both of you,” Sam muttered to his coworkers as he strided towards the office in the back of the salon.   
“You’re lucky that beanie covers up your sex hair!” Charlie called after him teasingly.   
“What just happened?” Mary wondered, pausing from trimming her oldest son’s hair and clueless from her day off.   
“Sam is doing the rare _male_ walk of shame,” Castiel explained to his boss with the voice of a documentary narrator.   
Dean’s ears perked up. “No way, Sammy’s too much of a prude for that,” he scoffed. “Especially not on a work night.”  
“Wrong you are, Dean. Your brother seems to be a man-slut,” Cas countered back.   
“You need to borrow a change of clothes, Sammy?” Dean said with a smirk.  
Sam reemerged from the office after changing into a spare shirt he had hidden back there. “Yeah, like your pants would be long enough, Shorty.” Sam replied with a scoff.  
“Sam, you should probably go home and shower and change. I’ll cover your clients,” Mary told him forcefully, more as a business owner than a mom.  
“Yeah, Sam. I’ll get the details later,” Dean teased with a wink and a chuckle.  
“Jerk,” Sam called at his brother.  
“Bitch,” Dean replied, earning a smack on the shoulder from his mother.  
“Assbutt!” Cas joined in.  
“Idjits, all of you,” Mary said sternly with a shake of her head, going back to trimming her oldest son’s hair. “Sam, go home and get cleaned up.”  
The giant slumped his shoulders and trudged back outside and over to his car, where Meg confronted him. “Where’s [Y/N]? Is she okay?” she instantly started interrogating Sam.   
“What? Yes, what are you talking about?” Sam wondered what she was accusing him of and why.   
“Her car is here and she isn’t. I went back and checked the security footage from last night. Michael came to threaten her. Then they moved out of frame, and I saw you headed in the same direction they went a few minutes later. So tell me what happened.”  
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Sam reassured the fiery blonde. “I got Michael to back off, then I gave her a ride home. She said you’d drive her here tomorrow for work.”  
"She better be okay or I'm coming for you," Meg threatened. “You stink like sex,” she added before storming back into the tattoo parlor, making Sam sniff the fresh shirt he had changed into. 

Meanwhile, you texted your best friend outside of work after showering and getting dressed for the day. _*Can you come over? Something happened last night…*_  
 _*Of course, I’m already on my way*_ Kelly replied within moments.   
You had moved to curl up in a blanket on the couch when she started pounding on your door, frantically calling your name. “Coming!” you yelled back, rolling onto your feet, the blanket still draped around your shoulders.   
“What happened? Are you okay?” Kelly threw questions at you as she pushed past you into your apartment. “Was it Michael?”  
“I’m fine, Kel,” you told her, closing the door behind you. “And yeah, it was Michael.” You led her to the living room and flopped down the sofa, recounting everything that happened until Sam dropped you off.  
“[Y/N], you really need to get a restraining order on this guy. He’s obviously dangerous,” Kelly insisted, her hand resting reassuringly on your arm.   
“There’s more...” you started, intending to tell her about Sam, when she stopped you.  
“Did he follow you home? You have to call the cops!” she exclaimed.  
You shook your head. “No, no, um… Well, I invited Sam inside…”  
“I know you’re not about to tell me you slept with him,” Kelly didn’t let you finish your thought. The look on your face confirmed her suspicions. “Why?!”   
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Obviously, by your reaction, it’s because I’m pathetic.” _Maybe I was too tipsy to make that decision for the both of us last night…_ you began to doubt yourself. _But he tried to stop your nightmare… and he apologized and kissed you before running out to work…_  
Kelly sighed, scooting closer to you and wrapping her arm around your shoulders. "No, honey, you're not pathetic. I'm just worried about you. You've dealt with a lot. How much do you really know about this guy?"   
“I know that he has the same taste in music as me, and that he eats barbecue chicken pizza and drinks whiskey. And that he, ya know, kept Michael from beating me half to death.” That last one was the part that told you the most, which was that he cared.   
"Just be careful, okay? I don't want to see you go through that again. It hurt all of us."  
“Don’t remind me who it hurt,” you replied with a slight bitterness in your tone, resting your head on her shoulder.  
"I know, sweetie. I know,” she cooed. “Why don't you tell me a little more about this Sam guy, then?"  
“Well... I don’t know... I had a nightmare last night and he... He was just there for me...” you mumbled, staring at nothing in particular.  
"He stayed the night?" Kelly questioned gently.  
“Well, he didn’t just fuck me and leave,” you pointed out.  
"Yeah, well, that in itself says a lot. Most of my one nighters made sure they were gone long before I was asleep. And they definitely wouldn't have comforted me through a nightmare."  
 _But was he really that comforting? Maybe he just wanted me to go back to sleep…_ you wondered before saying, “Yeah, but he did kind of rush out this morning...” Sitting upright, you turned your attention back to your friend.   
"Did he say anything?" she probed.  
You could hardly remember because you had still been half-asleep at that point. “I think he was late for work. He... he gave me a kiss before he left?”  
Kelly’s eyes brightened in a smirk. "So… is he a thing, then?"   
Shaking your head, you shot down the notion. “I don’t know... I doubt he wants to keep dealing with my Michael drama...”  
"You like him… don't you?" she suggested, seemingly out of nowhere.  
“What?” you scoffed, brushing her off. “No, I barely know him.”  
"You do. Hun, talk to him. You won't know where you stand until then,” she insisted.  
“Kel, I am _not_ ready for a relationship right now,” you argued. _What was so hard to understand about that?_  
Kelly glared at you with a look that said, _you know that wasn’t what I meant_ , before rolling her eyes. "I didn't say jump into a relationship. I said talk to him. If he doesn't like you, this is all a moot point anyway."  
But you couldn’t get past the possibility that he liked you-- why would he? “You’re making a big deal out of it. He’s a nice guy, he’s hot, and there was whiskey involved. That’s all there is to it.”  
"So you had been drinking before you got home? Is whiskey why you invited him up?" she countered.  
“No... I just didn’t want to risk Michael showing up at my door...” It was mostly true.  
"You can keep telling yourself that all you want. But you and I both know that Michael wasn't going to be showing up again last night, and that Sam… wouldn't have stopped him from showing up anyway." She was right. Sam may have been able to keep Michael from beating you into a pulp, but that didn’t mean your ex would stay away forever.  
Which was why you responded with, “Exactly! I don’t want him to feel like he has to be my bodyguard. I can fend for myself.”  
Kelly sighed and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I think you don't want to put your trust and your faith into someone else. Especially if that someone has the potential to care about you."  
 _Trust and faith, blah blah blah_ , you shook off her words. “That’s not what this is about. This is about the fact that the situation with Michael right now is too much for me to drag anyone else into.”  
She finally relented. "Okay. We'll pretend you're right. For now. But I expect to be talking to you about this soon."  
“You’re assigning me homework? Really?”  
"Isn't that what I do? Keep you honest with yourself?”

Despite all your arguing and denials, your thoughts lingered on what Kelly said that day. So, the next time you were both closing the shops, you invited Sam over to the parlor to hang out, thinking it would be good to talk and get things out in the open. Sam, however, was under the impression that you may have regretted sleeping with him, thinking that you invited him to the parlor to avoid making the same mistake twice. So when Sam didn’t seem interested in making a move again, you assumed that you had been right about thinking he didn’t want to be involved in any more of that drama.   
But you continued to enjoy his companionship- perhaps a little too much- you went out for lunch together every day that you were both at work, and you hung out together almost every weekend, ordering takeout and having conversation to good music. After Jody and Ellen saw Michael in the security footage, they had pushed you to file for a restraining order, to which you hesitantly agreed, remembering Dream Michael’s threat.   
Meanwhile, Jody and Donna (as well as the rest of their coworkers) were incredibly annoyed by the runaround between you and Sam over the next eight weeks. Additionally, they were almost certain that it was _their_ threats (paired along with the restraining order) that kept Michael away from the shop during that time; and if he tried to show up at your apartment, well he could be arrested within minutes. Which _technically_ gave you no excuse to deny yourself of a relationship with Sam any longer-- except that he still didn’t make any moves.  
“Why are you waiting for him to make a move?” Meg questioned while you were out back on a tattooing break. “You want him, go get him!”   
“Just because I like him like that doesn’t mean he feels the same…” you argued, making her groan frustratedly.   
“Oh my fucking, God, [Y/N], you are _killing_ me. You finally got rid of your ex, and right at your doorstep is a perfectly good guy for you. He _obviously_ likes you the same way,” she ranted. “Besides, what if he’s waiting for you to make a move? He probably just wanted to make sure you were ready,” she added.   
“Whatever. I gotta get back to work on this piece.”  
The next day, when Donna came in to bring lunch for everyone, she caught a glance of a sketch you were working on. “We need to get these dumbos together,” she declared to Jody in the back office.  
“Ugh, I know right?” Jody agreed. “But I’m not used to meddling in that kind of stuff.”  
Donna’s face lit up with a cheesy grin. “Well, lucky for you, I am. And I’m willing to tell ya how it’s done if ya help me with it.”  
*  
You weren’t quite sure how Jody and the rest of the girls had convinced you to go on a blind date, but here you were. They had really talked up the guy, and you figured if Sam wasn’t interested, you might as well take a chance.   
“Hi, I have a reservation under the name Hanscum,” you told the hostess when you arrived at the restaurant, figuring it would be easiest to just meet up at the table. Evidently, your date had thought the same thing, and your breath hitched in your throat when you saw him.


	4. Next Door Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your date with Sam, your relationship moves fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr if you'd like to see all the inspo pics for the different styles described in the fic!

Sam’s heart skipped a beat when he saw you arrive at the table. He couldn’t believe his eyes-- _you were his date?_ He was about to wonder if you knew about this, but the look on your face told Sam that you were just as surprised as he was. Nervously, he stood up to greet you, giving you a one-armed hug before pulling your chair out for you then returning to his seat.   
“I think Donna and Jody set us up,” he tried to joke.   
“You may _think_ that, Sam, but I _know_ it,” you teased back. “Sorry, but it looks like you’re stuck with me for the night.”  
“Stuck with you?” he scoffed, taking a sip from his water glass. “Baby, I’m lucky to be here.”  
Your dinner date with Sam was lovely, and it made you realize what a stubborn idiot you were being by insisting nothing was going to happen. He treated you like a queen, and by the time you finished dessert, the night was still fairly young, so you took a walk in the nearby park together. “Sam, I really like you…” you admitted after settling on a bench together, his arm wrapped around your shoulders while you cuddled up to him.   
“I really like you, too, [Y/N],” he murmured back, his breath tickling your cheek.  
*  
“You sure you wanna get both of these at the same time? I know you don’t have to work next week but still,” you questioned your boyfriend of three months before laying down the second stencil.   
“Not much point in taking _more_ time off when my dominant arm is out of commission,” Sam countered back.   
“Point made. Okay, relax your arm just like you did for the other one; there’s less room for error on this one because of the symmetry,” you told him.   
His lip curled up in a smile. “Yes ma’am.”  
Once you had the stencil down, you took both of his hands to examine the placement of the tattoo stencils on his forearms, making sure the sizes and alignments were correct. “Alright, go check them out in the mirror and make sure that’s the way you want them before we get started,” you commanded, dropping his hands.   
Sam furrowed his brow with a puzzled look. “Why? I can see them just fine, and they look perfect,” he tried to argue.   
“Sam, how many tattoos do you have at this moment?”  
“...None…”  
“Uh huh. Go look in the mirror and make sure you like how other people will see them at first glance.”  
The hairdresser rolled his eyes before doing as he was told, examining the artwork that was about to adorn his forearms-- a set of ornate vintage shears on his right inner forearm, a traditional straight razor on his left. _But they still look perfect,_ Sam thought to himself before returning to the tattoo chair and offering up his left arm. “Let’s do this.”  
“I hope you’re confident about letting me take your tattoo virginity,” you teased as you got your machines started.   
“How long have you been doing this?”   
“Since I was eighteen,” you replied, recounting the decade in your head.  
“Yeah, I think I can handle myself,” he flirted back, tensing up right before you made your first drag of the needle across his skin.   
“He said in pain,” you murmured sarcastically, focusing on outlining the stencil of the razor design. “Just take deep breaths,” you advised. “I know, I’m a bit heavy-handed…”  
“So what you’re telling me is that I should’ve asked for Jody?” he chuckled, forcing you to pin his arm against the cushion to keep him still.   
“Don’t make me tie you down, Sam,” you chastised as you redipped your needle in one of the black ink cups you had laid out across your workstation.   
He was focused on the feeling of your hands on his arm-- the contrast between the softness of your hands, the firmness of your grip, and the sensation of the tattoo needle. The way you could be so relaxed yet confident while you worked, your face so tense in concentration and focus that your tongue poked out of your mouth, driving his imagination absolutely wild. “Huh?” he asked, hardly having been pulled out of his daydreaming by your comment.   
Snickering, you shook your head and resumed your linework. You had started at the head of the razor design, saving the handle (which was closer to his elbow ditch and would inevitably be more painful) for the second half of the outline. Once you finally did get to that spot, Sam flinched reflexively before taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, doing his best to stay still for you. “Good boy,” you cooed, proud of him for finally getting the hang of the feeling.   
It took you about an hour and a half to finish the razor and two more hours for the shears, and Sam found himself increasingly aroused by the way you took control of his arm while you were tattooing him, and especially so by the way you said things like, _‘That’s it baby’; ‘Sitting so good for me’; ‘Such a good listener’_ , every time you hit a sensitive spot he had to breathe through.  
By the time you finished wiping down and wrapping up the second tattoo, it was long after shop hours, and you two were the only ones there, so Sam boldly yanked you onto his lap on the chair, squeezing your hips. “Sam!” you yelped, giggling. “Stop, your arms are about to start swelling like crazy…”   
“All the more reason to do this now, while I still can,” he purred, trailing kisses down your neck and grinding your hips against his.   
“You are _not_ messing up my artwork!” you protested, shoving him back against the chair. “But, if you _insist_ on taking care of things before we get home…” you suggested, wiggling your brows at him while you slid off of his lap and reached to undo his pants just enough to access his half-hard cock. “I can do that all on my own,” you stated before leaning down and teasing him with your tongue.   
Sam whimpered as soon as you took him into your mouth completely, his hips bucking up in an attempt to fuck your face, but just like when you were tattooing him, you pinned him down against the chair, taking control from him by force. Just to torture him a little more, you bobbed up and down his dick slowly, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head, making him reach out to thread his fingers through your hair. “Fuck, baby,” he gasped, tightening his grip.   
“Put your arm down, baby,” you replied as you came up for air, gently taking his wrist and placing it back on the armrest of the chair. “Told you, you’re not ruining my work…” you chastised before ducking down again to continue his blowjob.   
You could see Sam white-knuckling the armrests from your peripheral vision, and you smiled deviously to yourself before hollowing your cheeks around him. “Oh, I’m gonna…” he grunted, trailing off when his orgasm interrupted him. You eagerly gulped down his spendings before tucking him back into his pants and straddling his lap again.  
“Yeah, I know,” you laughed before pressing your lips to his. “You can pay me back later.”  
By the time you and Sam actually left the shop, Sam spotted Cas’ car still parked in the lot, and dragged you over with him to investigate. He peeked in just enough to catch a glimpse of his coworker and the woman he was sucking face with before muffling a chuckle and leading you back over to his own car.   
“What?” you wondered.  
“I’m pretty sure Cas is making out with Meg in there,” he told you in disbelief.   
“What?!” you exclaimed, getting in the car. “My Meg? Ink House Tattoo, this is Meg speaking, Meg?”   
“Looked like her. But then again, I didn’t really see much of her face.”  
“She _totally_ would hook up with Cas. And she would _definitely_ hide it from everyone she could,” you made sense of things. “Wonder how long that’s been going on... What should we do to mess with them until they decide to come out?” you inquired mischievously.  
The answer to your question was very simple, and you and Sam decided to put your plans into action the next day. Sam was given the perfect opportunity when Mary’s motherly nature kicked in and she asked Cas if he had gotten enough sleep last night, as he looked tired.   
“Oh, yeah, Cas just had a late night last night,” Sam chimed in, earning a puzzled and frightful look from Castiel. “You know, from closing the salon? I saw your car last night.”  
“Right, yeah. That…”   
Another opportunity presented itself when Sam went over to the tattoo shop to have lunch with you as usual. “[Y/N], your giraffe is here,” Meg commented upon his entrance.   
“Meg, be nice,” Jody scolded from her place with her client.   
Sam chuckled heartily before replying, "Meg would _maybe_ be nice to her boyfriend… but at this point she's really only nice to Cas."  
And you chimed right in with, "Oh please, if Meg had a boyfriend she'd be hiding him from us and hooking up with him in her car.” Meg glanced at Sam before glaring in your direction, and you threw her a wink.   
When you got to Sam’s place later that evening after work, you decided to make him a proposition. “If you could color my hair any color you wanted, what would you pick for me?” you inquired, plopping down on the couch next to him and playing with his hair.   
“Any color _I_ want?” he asked incredulously. “Hmmm…” His eyes raked over your hair before making contact with yours, his lips turning up in a grin. “I don’t know if you’d let me,” he told you when he finally spoke again.   
“Oh really? What makes you say that?” you countered.   
“Well… how do you feel about pink?”  
 _Pink… Okay…_ “As long as you don’t make me look like a stick of cotton candy,” you teased, smiling.   
Snickering, he replied, “I would never.”  
“But not until your new ink heals a bit more. I don’t want you accidentally infecting yourself.”

Two weeks later and you were perched on the edge of the bathtub while Sam was removing the aluminum foil squares from your hair. And since you were without a mirror and Sam had his color mixing bowls behind him, you had no clue what your hair was about to look like-- but you trusted Sam.   
“Okay, it’ll probably be easiest to rinse this out if we just go ahead and hop in the shower,” he said after throwing away the last of the foil.   
“Do you hear me objecting?” you flirted, leaning forward to start running the water for the shower.   
Luckily, you were wearing one of Sam’s oversized button-downs, which meant you could just nudge the shirt off of your shoulders without having to worry about it touching your hair before getting in the lukewarm shower. “Give me a sec, I’ll come rinse,” Sam called from beyond the shower curtain while he finished undressing himself.   
“I’m a patient woman, Sam,” you teased him. “You should know that.”  
“I don’t know if _patient_ would be my word of choice…” Sam countered just as playfully as he stepped into the shower with you, gently tilting your head back under the water with one hand while the other rinsed the color out of your hair with his fingers.   
“Oh shut up,” you muttered, keeping your eyes squeezed shut while the water washed over you. Once he finally finished the process of washing and rinsing your hair twice over, he stepped back and took a look at his work, albeit soaking wet. “How’s it look?” you wondered, noticing the way his pupils dilated.   
“Um…” he stuttered in awe. “Turn around…”  
You pushed your freshly colored hair back over your shoulders and spun around to face the shower wall, catching a small glimpse of a pinkish purple shade. “Sam, say something…” _Does it look that bad?_ You panicked.   
“It’s…” he started before pausing again, leaving you in suspense-- at least until you felt his erection sliding through your folds. “Really sexy,” he finally breathed when you arched your back against him, nudging the tip of his dick into your wet heat.   
Propping your arms against the shower wall, you exhaled, “Yeah, baby?” as he slowly sank into you, your pussy stretching to accommodate him.   
“Mhmmm…” he grunted before withdrawing partially and then slamming back into you, fucking you at a steady pace while he gripped your hips in place to keep you upright.   
“Oh, fuck, Sam, feels so good,” you panted, relishing in the feeling of being so full while the pressure in your core continued to build.   
He practically had to hold you up when your climax snuck up on you, your body trembling in his grip while he continued to rail into you. “That’s it baby, come for me,” he commanded breathily just before pulling out of you and letting the shower wash away the thick white spurts before they had a chance to go anywhere.   
After you finally caught your breath and regained the ability to stand on your own, you spoke up. “Can we get out so I can see my hair now?” You had to give Sam credit-- your hair looked amazing with the black to pink ombre he had done. _He’s definitely making hairstyle choices for me more often now…_  
*  
Without many appointments on the books one day a few months later, you found yourself working on a new idea for a piece in your sketchbook, unsure if you’d ever be ready to put it into someone’s skin. It was one of the biggest pieces you’d ever drawn, a black and grey neo-traditional portrait with _tons_ of details. Even with the right canvas, it would take at least six hours, realistically drawing closer to eight or nine. You’d done some big pieces like that before, but those were in your comfort zone of fine line black and grey. This, on the other hand, was something that _any_ artist would struggle with-- which was why you had avoided the subject for the first decade of your tattooing career.  
You’d just finished the outline of the design and were about to begin shading it in when Sam placed your lunch on your workspace in front of you. “Delivery,” he smirked, circling around to kiss you. “Whatcha workin’ on?”  
“Just this,” you replied, sliding your sketchbook over to him while you dug around in the fast food bag for your sandwich.   
“Holy shit, [Y/N], this is awesome,” he gawked.   
You shrugged, knowing it was a piece of work. “I still need to finish it,” you told him.   
“So? It’s already amazing,” he argued.   
A few walk-ins kept you busy for the rest of the work day until you rode home with Sam, continuing to work on your sketch (i.e. finish the shading) while you prepared dinner and waited for your boyfriend to get out of the shower.   
He brought it up again after you finished eating. “Hey, it looks like you finished that design,” he pointed out.   
“Yeah, I think so…” You glanced back at the open sketchbook on the counter. “For now, at least. I’m sure it’ll need some adjustments once I see it on skin,” you added. “But I’m not ready for that yet.”  
Sam furrowed his brows. “What makes you say that? You’ve been tattooing for over ten years.”  
“It’s one of the biggest pieces I’ve ever done, and it will be the first Medusa I’ve ever done. Do you know how many amazing artists fuck up Medusas?” you argued. _Clearly, he doesn’t,_ you answered yourself internally.   
“I get that you’re apprehensive; I was when I did your hair. I’d never done the two-tone like that before and I’ve seen it ruin someone’s hair,” Sam countered.  
“Yeah it’s not exactly the same thing making a mistake on hair versus making a mistake tattooing,” you told him firmly, not wanting to argue about this for too long at risk of starting a whole _‘whose job is harder’_ argument.  
“Okay, fair point,” he conceded. “It’s not like you can just cut the skin off and wait for it to grow back and try again. But,” he paused, waiting for you to look at him, “I fully believe you can do it-- I’ve seen you do tons of great snakes and amazing lady faces. And I want it. The first original Medusa my girlfriend designed and tattooed? I’d be overjoyed every day when I saw it.”  
“Babe, you do realize you only have two tattoos, right?” you reminded him, referring to the hairdressing tools you did on his forearms a few months ago. “This would be an eight or nine hour session… Which I can handle, but can you?”  
“I’m sure I can. But even if I can’t, you can hold me down as much as you want,” he said suggestively, earning a light slap on the chest from you. “Especially if you put it on my chest.” He wiggled his eyebrows.   
“I’m not staring at Medusa every time I ride you,” you argued. “And I’m done talking about this for now. Can we switch to something fun?”  
Slightly puppy-like at first, Sam’s face turned up into a grin at the suggestion of something _‘fun’_. “Always,” he confirmed smugly. 

After several days of begging, Sam eventually wore you down. That’s how you ended up at your workstation after the shop closed one night, getting ready to tattoo a half-sleeve neo-traditional Medusa with a ton of detail on your boyfriend’s right bicep. Knowing this would be an all-nighter, you had requested the next several days off with Sam.   
“You ready, babe?” you questioned him as you started your machines and dipped your needle in the ink. “Because I’m going to have to start at the bottom and work my way up, which means the most painful parts first.”   
“You can still tie me down if you want,” he replied in place of a typical confirmation, making you roll your eyes.   
“Yeah, and then I’d have another _something_ to deal with. Keep it in your pants, Apple Pie,” you snarked back.   
It was long after sunrise by the time you and Sam got home to your place, and he collapsed onto the shitty futon as soon as he walked through the door.   
“No, babe,” you groaned, taking him by the hands and starting to lift him back up. “I gotta unwrap your arm and clean it up, you know the drill.”   
“But sleeeeep,” he groaned, standing up on his feet anyway and letting you lead him to the sink in the bathroom.   
“After I clean this bad boy up and get some Aquaphor on it,” you repeated.   
You couldn’t have slept for more than a couple of hours when you were awoken by the sound of the ice dispenser in the fridge, Sam padding into the room a few moments later. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just getting some water,” he apologized, chugging half the glass before setting it down on the nightstand and climbing back into the bed with you.   
“Lemme see that thing,” you ignored him, grabbing his right arm to observe your work— _you couldn’t have done better_. She was beautiful, and by far the best tattoo you’d ever done. Now you were glad that he had insisted on being your canvas for the design, because you’d get to watch it heal up, and you could see it every day. Your linework had never been better, your shading was on point, and you didn’t mess up any of the proportions or anatomy for the snake hair. You were just about ready to draw up another big challenge piece, in fact. “She’s badass.”  
“Almost as badass as you,” Sam quipped, admiring the piece for himself.   
“Oh please,” you scoffed, rolling onto your side with your back facing him to go back to sleep.   
Sam’s arm snaked around your waist and pulled you into the little spoon position, his dick pressed against your ass. “I’m serious. You _have_ to be a badass to create something like this,” he spoke softly into your ear.   
“Thank you for supporting me and pushing me to do it,” you replied sheepishly. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you…” you admitted, placing your hand over his and relaxing into him.   
“Nuh uh. This was all you. All I did was introduce Dean to Jo and then complain for half the thing,” he argued. “I don’t understand how you’re covered in these. They’re a bitch to sit through.”   
You chuckled. “I tried to warn you. Next time I bet you’ll think twice before you beg me for an eight hour piece.”  
“Well, you’re definitely right about that,” he snickered back, his hand sneaking under your shirt to cup one of your breasts, letting you know he was ready for business.   
And honestly, after having had a moment to ogle at the piece, you kind of were too. “Sam,” you giggled. “What _is_ it about me tattooing you that gets you so horned up?” you teased, squealing when he tweaked your nipple.   
“I can’t help myself, you’re just so hot,” he growled lowly in your ear.   
“Then what are you waiting for, baby?” you goaded knowingly, ready to shimmy out of your t-shirt and panties and ride Sam into the sunset.   
You rolled Sam onto his back and straddled him, pulling your shirt over your head and sliding your panties down to your knees before lifting for a second to pull them all the way off. Returning to hover over him, you trailed kisses down Sam’s chest and stomach, your hands dragging down his sides to his hips and stopping when you reached the band of his boxers to curl your fingers underneath.   
Sam lifted his hips so that you could remove the last article of clothing before straddling him again, his thick cock pressed against your slick pussy. “You like it when I ride you, don’t you sweet boy?” you cooed, rutting against him to tease him even more.   
“Uh huh,” he panted, bucking up beneath you, desperate to be inside.   
You propped yourself up on your arms against his chest, pinning him to the mattress while you lined him up with your entrance, knowing it would spur him on even more. “Patience, baby…” you mocked, sinking onto him slowly.   
Sam emitted a delicious moan until finally bottoming out, when you started rocking your hips into his, the angle allowing him to hit your sweet spot every time. He could tell by the moans that you were making that you wouldn’t last long, and neither would he. You clutched onto his left bicep while you rode him, careful to stay away from his sore right arm.   
The smell of the ink leaked into the air, practically sending you on a high in combination with the hormones that were coursing through you. “Wanna make you come, Sam,” you mumbled, looking into his galactic eyes with a pleading expression on your face.   
“You will, baby,” he reassured you, his voice cracking.   
The sounds of his whines were enough to drive you home, and you clenched down around him as you came, triggering Sam’s orgasm as well. Sam kept bucking into you until you both rode out your peaks, then he rolled you onto your sides, taking a moment so you could both catch your breath. “I love you, my blank canvas,” you said endearingly.   
“I love you too, my beautiful artist.”  
*  
You had just arrived at the shop a month later when you looked up at the date on the calendar and panicked. _Oh, god…_ You felt like an idiot-- you should’ve been paying more attention. But instead you made new plans for your lunch break. _Good thing Sam’s off today…_ And after convincing yourself it was just a false alarm, of course you were proven wrong, which made you terrified to go home to Sam’s place. _Maybe just don’t go…_ but then he’d show up at your own apartment with worry. _Just face the music_ , you told yourself.   
You left work early and headed over to Sam’s, not bothering to knock since you basically lived there anyway. Sam met you in the living room and you greeted him with a tight smile, immediately alerting him to the fact that something was up.  
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his words dripping with concern. Wordlessly, you reached into your bag and handed him the test, the one that still said _‘Pregnant’_ in the window. You continued to stand there in silence while he seemed to process the information, unable to read the expression on his face. “Is this…?” he didn’t even finish the question, making you think he was just as terrified as you were.   
But before he even gave you the chance to respond, he threw the stick of plastic over his shoulder and swept you into his arms, picking you up and twirling you around. “You’re not mad?” you asked in disbelief as you hesitantly returned the embrace.   
“Mad?” he chuckled, setting you down but keeping his hands tight around your waist. “Why would I be mad? I’m gonna be a dad,” he said excitedly, lifting the weight of the world off your shoulders.   
A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you smiled from ear to ear before pulling his face down to yours and kissing him. He lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist before carrying you into the bedroom and laying you down on the mattress, showering your body with kisses while he worked to remove your clothes.   
His lips lingered on your stomach, his hot breath tickling the skin and making you thankful you didn’t have any tattoos on your torso that would stretch out. “I love you so much,” he whispered, making you unsure who exactly he was talking to. Then he crawled back up your body and pressed his lips back to yours. “And I couldn’t be happier that you’re carrying our child.”


	5. In Sickness & Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your secret racing rival, Chuck, makes life as difficult as possible for you in an attempt to keep you off the track.

You pulled the Impala to a stop next to the bright red ‘06 Subaru Impreza and stepped out, joining the group of people milling about, waiting for the race to start. There were about twenty people around, including a couple of drivers and seconds.   
“Chuck,” you sneered at the man that was your main competition in all of these races.  
“Oh, little [Y/N] Smith. Ready to lose?” he snapped over the other conversations happening around you.  
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” you grumbled to your brother under your breath.  
“Kazzy, listen up. Baby has never run better,” Dean reassured you. “With you behind the wheel, she can't lose. Chuck is a twat-- _have you seen his car?_ He knows he can't win unless he psychs you out, which is what he's trying to do. Don't let him. Instead, you go out there, you get in that car, and you give Baby all she's got as soon as the signal drops. That bastard won’t even know what hit him by the time you cross the finish line. You got this, Kazzy.”  
Crowley called the racers to their positions, so you and Chuck settled behind the wheels of your respective cars and started the engines while Pamela took her position. The rumble of the Impala helped to soothe your nerves and you took a deep breath as you shifted the car into drive and held steady on the brakes, your eyes never leaving Pamela.   
The second she turned the light on, you released the brake and floored the gas. You heard the tires spin for a second before gripping the asphalt, and the car lurched forward. You kept the wheel steady, holding Baby in your lane as the speedometer climbed and the finish line closed in.  
You crossed the line a couple of feet ahead of Chuck (and a couple of car lengths ahead of everyone else), letting off the gas and allowing the car to slow before pressing the brakes and coming to a gentle stop. You shut off the car and stepped out to eager spectators running towards you down the quarter-mile strip of road you just raced, with Dean at the front of the crowd wearing the proudest smile.   
He swooped you into his arms as soon as you were within reach and spun you around in a celebratory circle. “What did I say, Kazzy!” he boasted. “No one can drive Baby like you, not even me.”  
“You keep saying that, Deano, but you haven’t signed her over to me yet,” you countered playfully as your brother set you down.  
“Maybe when Dad rolls over in his grave,” he scoffed sarcastically, making you sigh frustratedly.   
“Don’t torture me,” you snarked.   
He tucked you under his arm and led you away from the crowd. “Milkshakes on me,” he determined.  
Chuck stormed over to his second after the race ended, infuriated that he was bested by a twenty-something year-old girl. “You said I’d beat anything that was more than twenty years old!” he yelled at Gabe. “That piece of shit is pushing twice that!”  
“Yeah, well have you considered the fact that the wrong person is driving it?” Gabe snapped back, tired of taking Chuck’s shit. “You could switch cars with that girl and she’d _still_ beat you.”  
“Then I guess I’ll just have to figure out another way to get her off the course,” he muttered.  
*  
The next morning you woke up to a text from Dean reminding you that he had to go into the shop early, meaning you’d be driving yourself to work today. _*See you at work, sis.*_  
 _*Leaving my place soon, bro,*_ you responded before climbing out of bed and getting ready for another day at the auto shop. Luckily your dad wouldn’t be there today; that was the whole reason Dean had to go in early.  
You cranked up the music in your car and rolled the windows down, deciding to take a carefree drive to work after your victory over Chuck last night. _God, you hated that prick_. Thinking about your plans after the workday, you weren’t paying as much attention to what was going on behind you as you normally did, and before you could do anything to avoid it, another car kissed the corner of your back bumper as you were rounding a curve, sending your vehicle rolling into a ditch. You were strapped in tight enough that you stayed put in the car, but your head smashed against the steering wheel, rendering you unconscious from the impact.  
The paramedics cut off the sleeve you used to cover the tattoo on your forearm, hoping it would give them an indication of who to contact for you once they made it to the hospital. “Guys look,” Meg pointed out to her coworkers once they got you in the ambulance. “Is it just me, or is that about how long it’s gonna take us to get her back to the ER?”   
Castiel narrowed his eyes as he took a closer look at the timer etched into the skin on your arm, counting down from _**00:00:11:09**_. “Just over eleven minutes, yeah,” he confirmed in his gravelly voice. “Let’s get going, we don’t want to influence anything.”  
Meg started a timer on her watch and synchronized it with the countdown on your wrist while Sam, the EMT driver, weaved the ambulance through traffic to get you to the hospital and whoever was waiting at the other end of that timer for you. _**138:06:17:54**_ , his timer still read. _Not even another six months_ , he told himself. _Just be patient, Sam._  
Being patient would have been a much easier feat if Sam hadn’t happened to glance down at you while the team rolled your gurney into the facility-- right as your eyes fluttered open, your countdown hit zero, and Meg’s watch started beeping.  
You were only able to catch a brief glimpse of one of the medics carting you in, some high-pitched beeping muffled in the background as you made eye contact with each other. Something seemed to be making him extra anxious for just any other patient, his hazel eyes full of concern as he looked down at you, then back up at his surroundings. Fatigued and clueless, you drifted off again within a couple of moments.   
*  
“You’re not seriously blaming _me_?” Dean hissed at John just outside your hospital room. “If you’re gonna blame anyone for the fact that she was driving to work alone, it should be _yourself_! We could’ve come in together like always, but no! I had to go in early to finish what you started!”  
“You don’t talk to me like that, boy,” John spat back at his son.  
“Mr. Smith,” Dr. Talbot cleared her throat, drawing the two away from their argument. “[Y/N] should be just fine. Luckily, she’s a smart girl, and she was wearing her seatbelt, so she’ll be up and walking soon enough. She does have a concussion, as well as a couple of fractured and bruised ribs, but I don’t suspect any permanent damage. You got very lucky.”   
“What about the other driver that almost killed my girl?” John questioned with a vengeance.   
Dr. Talbot hesitated before answering, clearly intimidated by the man before her. “I’m afraid Officers Mills and Hanscum had to declare it a hit and run… They left a card for you in case you’d like to stay in the loop regarding the investigation they’ll be running,” she replied, holding a couple of business cards out for John to take.   
Meg made her way to your room once she got off her shift, feeling compelled to tell either you or your family that she had been there when your countdown zeroed out. Dean had somehow managed to send his father home by then. “Woah, who are you?” he inquired when Meg stepped into your room.   
“Has your sister always kept her timer covered?” were the first words out of her mouth.   
Dean furrowed his brow in confusion, his eyes narrowing. “Ever since it showed up, yeah. Why?” he wondered. He had noticed that your timer was zeroed out by the time he got there, but it was also the first time he had seen it since he was twelve and neither of you could even count high enough to figure out when it would hit zero.   
It could’ve happened years ago for all he knew-- you were almost thirty now. Dean, on the other hand, still had over 200 days left. But he wasn’t counting. The off-duty medic interrupted his thoughts. “I saw it zero out,” she blurted.   
He suddenly grabbed her by the shoulder, needing more information. “Who had the matching countdown?” he demanded.   
_Oh, god, this was the part Meg was dreading._ “Um,” she stuttered hesitantly. “Well…”   
“Well?” Dean coaxed.   
“His countdown… hasn’t zeroed out yet…” she revealed, her voice cracking at the end of her statement.   
The mechanic clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth before speaking again. “What do you mean, his countdown is _still_ going? I don’t want him anywhere near her if he’s not zeroed out yet,” he commanded, as if Meg could do anything about it.   
“He disagrees,” she told him, knowing how Sam was about these things. He would insist that there was a reason your timer hit zero when you saw each other even if his hadn’t. _That’s Sam Wesson for ya._ “Anyway, I just thought you’d like to know. Maybe actually give her a chance at being happy... I see you still have a ways to go,” she commented.   
Dean looked down at his counter, then over to hers. “I see you don’t. You must be happy,” he retorted.   
“You know, my fiance’s timer zeroed out long before he met me… Even though mine did when I met him,” she admitted, hoping it might give the man a little optimism. “Doesn’t mean we don’t belong together now.” She decided to take her leave after that, leaving Dean to steep in the words.   
*   
Your brother was by your side when you finally opened your eyes again, practically smothering you in his embrace. “Don’t you ever pull that shit on me again,” he mumbled into your shoulder before releasing you for air.   
“What happened?” you wondered, dazed and confused. The last thing you remembered was driving to work… _and then dreaming about some hottie in a polo…_  
“Someone ran you off the road. Thank god you were wearing your seatbelt,” he told you.   
Trying not to turn your head, you glanced around the empty hospital room. “Where’s Dad?” you inquired.   
“At the shop with Benny and Ash. They’re all worried about you.”  
You sneered, “I doubt that. He tried to blame you, didn’t he?”  
Dean shook his head. “S’nothing.”  
But you could tell that something was bothering him. “What?” you probed, when you noticed him looking down at your arm. _Your arm… bare… and all zeros…_ “Fucking assholes,” you mumbled, looking back up at him. “Well, at least I already know him. I’m sure you’re glad it’s not Benny,” you tried to joke.   
His face remained serious as the accident you were just in. “It happened while they were bringing you into the hospital… _after_ the hit and run…” he confessed somberly. “And the guy…”  
You squinted at your brother in disbelief. “What about the guy? That EMT driver?” you questioned, remembering the small glimpses you had managed to capture.   
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, it was one of the medics that told me she saw your countdown end.”  
“Okay, so what’d she say about who had the matching countdown?”  
Your brother hated that he had gotten stuck with this short straw now that he was having to talk this out with you. “There was no matching countdown…” he finally said after pausing.   
You wanted to scream. “This is _exactly_ why I kept that thing covered!” you practically shouted. “What’s the fucking point of these things?” Dean shook his head, and you petulantly crossed your arms. “Whatever. I’ll just cover it back up. When can we get out of here?”  
“I’ll go get the nurse; we’ll have you home in a couple of hours,” he reassured you.   
“Which home?” you questioned suspiciously, knowing he could’ve been talking about his home, your home, or worse your childhood home.   
He smiled knowingly-- he had been prepared for this question. “Mine. You’re staying with me for a few days, baby sis,” he answered.   
“Oh my _god_ , Dean. Four minutes,” you groaned.   
“And for those four minutes I owned our parents,” he teased back.   
“And for every minute after, you owned our father,” you snapped bitterly. “He’s not suspicious, is he?” you asked, changing the subject.   
Dean tried to shrug off your resentful comments. “No, he thinks it was just some dumb asshole that didn’t want to be held responsible if you had died. I’m sure Officer Mills is sick of him by now,” he joked.   
“Like he actually cares…” you mumbled under your breath.  
“Hey, stop. He does care. He wouldn’t be so pissed if he didn’t,” Dean tried to comfort you.   
“Then why isn’t he here?”  
“I’m gonna go get the nurse to start your paperwork… Maybe grab us some coffee,” he replied, avoiding your question and heading out to the reception area.   
A few minutes later, a familiar hottie-in-a-polo stepped into your doorway, knocking on the frame. You recognized him as the driver from the ambulance you were brought here in after the accident. _There was no matching countdown_ … Dean’s voice echoed in your head, causing you to look down at his timer, 138 days and change. “Can I help you?” you asked, your voice still a little raspy.   
“I think we can help each other…” he answered, raising a brow. “May I come in?” You nodded just slightly, and he stepped into the room, coming to a stop and sitting in the chair by your bed, leaning forward. “You zeroed out on me…” he said, as if it would make a difference.   
“But you didn’t,” you reminded him.   
“I don’t care. I know tons of couples that didn’t zero out on each other,” he tried to argue. “There has to be a reason I’m it for you…”  
“And you don’t think it’s just as likely that there’s a reason I’m not it for you?” you countered back. “I don’t wanna get cheated on, _driver_.”   
“My name’s Sam. Sam Wesson. And I would never cheat on someone I was in a committed relationship with. Zeros or not.”  
“Right, you’d dump me first, how chivalrous.”  
“Hopefully not five months in. Why would I ditch someone for a stranger just because my arm says so?”  
“Why would you insist on _getting_ with a stranger just because _her_ arm says so?” you used his argument against him.   
“I think we’re hitting it off quite well, don’t you?” he replied, his lip curling up into a contagious smile. “One date. Please,” he begged.   
You sighed, deciding you’d agree to it because it was one date and it would get him off your back… _or on your back_ … You shook off the thought. “Fine. One date. You have my number.”  
*  
The next weekend, Sam picked you up at your apartment to take you on the date he had planned for the two of you. You were adamant about keeping him away from Dean, knowing that your brother was protective that way, and Sam didn’t seem to have any qualms. “Really? You’re okay with that?” you questioned during the car ride.   
Sam cleared his throat before answering, “My, uh, coworker, Meg… went to talk to him about it after her shift ended… I guess you were still asleep or something… And she told me that he didn’t seem to want me around as long as I still had time left.”  
“Oh,” was all you could say. It did sound about right. “Wait… So were you waiting till he left my room to come talk to me?”   
Sam scoffed, shaking his head, but refusing to look at you. “No,” he said unconvincingly.   
“You’re crazy,” you laughed at him.   
“Wait till you see what I have planned for our date,” he countered.   
“Oh god, you _are_ gonna murder me, aren’t you?” you joked.   
Shaking his head again, he chuckled. “Only if you die from being swept off your feet.”  
You and Sam continued the playful banter on the way to your date destination, and you started to get nervous at how much you were actually starting to like him. Especially when you arrived at an empty rooftop bar that overlooked the city. “Oh my god, Sam, what is this place? We’re not trespassing are we?” you asked in disbelief as you looked around, taking in the rustic decor.   
“No,” he chuckled. “Let’s just say I know the owners, and they were happy to let me borrow the place before the grand opening.”  
“This is amazing, Sam… but we’re the only ones here… I’m not really much of a cook…”  
“Don’t worry,” he butted in. “There are three staff members in the kitchen ready to serve us.”  
You shook your head. “Why would you do all this for me?”  
He shrugged. “I’m your soulmate, aren’t I?”  
Halfway through your meal, you caught a glimpse of the timer that belonged to the girl serving you, Jo, noticing she had about 200 days left. Scouring your mind, you grabbed a napkin and a pen and jotted down the time you saw, starting a timer on your watch to keep track of how long it was until you saw your twin next. You were quite certain though, that you had found the matching countdown to his, and this was the perfect piece of information to use to get back at him for all your sibling rivalry growing up.   
“What are you doing?” Sam pried.   
“Just checking something. I’ll keep you updated if you’re that interested,” you told him with a grin and a wink, and Sam knew he was in trouble.   
He leaned down for a kiss when he dropped you off at your door that night, pausing midway in case you didn’t want it, but you eagerly closed the gap and pressed your lips to his, sending sparks flying.   
“Good night, Sam,” you murmured when you finally separated for air.   
*  
Your father-slash-boss had restricted you to desk duty while your ribs healed up; you were lucky he even let you work at all, but you had been a pain in his ass about it. Meanwhile, Dean was being a pain in _your_ ass about your countdown zeroing out-- nosey as fuck. “So has that EMT guy tracked you down yet?” he inquired while you were on lunch break together during some dead hours.   
“Why does it matter so much to you? It was never supposed to be uncovered,” you insisted, trying to get him off your back.   
“If it was never supposed to be uncovered, it wouldn’t have zeroed out minutes later,” he argued. “I never understood why you always covered it anyway.”  
“And _that’s_ what I don’t understand. It was only ever going to be a distraction, you know that.” Dean shook his head, causing you to add, “Tell me you don’t have whatever date and time that is marked on your calendar.” Which reminded you to check the timer on your phone and compare it to his arm, recognizing the sequence of numbers when you did the math and grinning to yourself.   
“What?” he questioned.   
“Oh, nothing,” you replied smugly.   
Dean cocked his head and furrowed his brows at you, pursing his lips in thought. “No, I really don’t trust that tone of voice,” he stated suspiciously.   
“You really should trust me, considering we were in the womb together,” you goaded.   
Suddenly Benny joined you out back. “Heard you zeroed out at the ER,” he drawled in that Southern twang. “Shame, I thought maybe behind that sleeve we coulda matched.”  
“You know that’s not how it works, Benny,” Dean snapped back with a mouthful of food.   
“‘Tis a shame,” you joked back. “But you’ll always have a special place in my heart, Benny.”  
*  
Things with Sam were going swimmingly, but the cops on your hit and run case, Jody and Donna, still hadn’t been able to pin down a suspect by the time your ribs finished healing more than a month after the accident. Dr. Talbot had cleared you to operate heavy machinery, and Dean was putting up a fight with you like he never had before.   
“I’m _fine_ , Dean, the doctor cleared me to drive!” you insisted, trying to snatch the impala keys from him, where he held them up just out of your reach.   
“She did _NOT_ clear you to race, [Y/N],” he used your given name instead of your nickname. “And I am not risking you getting into an even worse accident. Because then it _will_ be my fault.”   
“Dean, if it’s not Baby, it’ll be someone else’s car. I have friends.”  
“They are my friends too, and they know about your accident, and none of them will let you get behind the wheel for another race right now,” he told you.   
“Ash would.”  
“No,” Dean growled.  
“I think he would. He’s just as reckless as me. But then again, I could always just ask Crowley. You know he lives to see me race,” you threatened. “But… I use Baby, and you can ride shotgun during the race.”   
“I hate you.”  
“You love me because we’re the same.”   
That was how you convinced Dean to let you race the impala that night, reveling in the looks on Chuck and Gabe’s faces when they saw you pull up next to them, your brother in the passenger seat wearing a matching smirk. Suddenly Chuck looked back over to Gabe, who got out of the impreza to make a phone call.   
“What was that all about?” you wondered.   
You found out when you got to the other side of the finish line, having just barely beaten Chuck by half a fender. You and your brother shared a mortified look when your father approached you from behind and tucked you both into his tight grasp, dragging you out to where all the other spectators had parked their cars. “What the hell is going on here?” he yelled at the top of his lungs, not giving a flying fuck about the other bystanders.   
Dean glanced over and saw Chuck and Gabe smiling to themselves. It was then that he realized they had to be the ones responsible for your accident several weeks ago, and that after that phone call they were just as responsible for John showing up to the race. He didn’t know how yet, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to find out.   
“Well, are you gonna answer me or not?” John asked after being answered with silence from the both of you.   
“Can we go home and talk about this, Dad?” Dean spoke up, wanting to get away from the environment that John clearly disapproved of. “I’ll follow you back in the impala.”  
“You’re damn right you will, and then you’ll hand the keys back over to me until I can trust you not to let your little sister drag race my car!” the man yelled.   
“I’m not little!” you finally spoke up. “He is four fucking minutes older than me, Dad, get the fuck over it,” you hissed. “I’m twenty-nine years old, I can do what I damn well please. And you signed the impala over to Dean, so if he wants to let me drive the car, there’s nothing you can do about it!” you told him off.   
“Yeah, well if I had known he’d be using it to let you drive illegal street races, I never would’ve given it to him in the first place.”  
“Why should I care since I was never going to get it?!” you raised your voice so high it broke.   
*  
You begged Sam to let you stay at his place for the next few days, wanting to be somewhere your father couldn’t find you in your free time. You were snuggled together on the couch while you vented to him about your dad. “You’re so lucky. Bobby and Ellen are so nice,” you told him, referring to his own parents.   
“Yeah, but I don’t have a brother like Dean,” he argued. “It sounds like he’d do anything for you.”  
“Including murder you,” you interjected. “Which is why you’re not meeting him until _after_ you zero out. Assuming you’re still around.”  
“I will be,” he said confidently. A little too confidently for someone you hadn’t even exchanged _‘I love you’_ s with yet.   
“What makes you so sure?” you asked. “What do you think is gonna happen in...” you looked at his arm, “99 days and change?”  
“I think… you and I will be cuddled up in bed together and... I’ll learn something about you that I had to hear in order to truly know you,” he answered.   
It made plenty of sense to you. Considering he didn’t know about the racing-- an arguably big part of who you were. But he was an EMT, and you didn’t want him thinking he was going to have to pull you from another accident. So you’d keep it that way for as long as you could, knowing that if he was your person, he’d stick by you at that point.  
You glanced up at Sam to see him gazing down at you with adoration, taking the moment to lean up and kiss him. He relaxed into your kiss like it was the easiest thing in the world for him, sliding you onto his lap so that you were straddling him while he deepened the kiss.  
 _Fuck it_ , you thought, reaching down to grab one of his hands and slide it under your shirt. His fingers lightly traced over the skin of your torso, probably still worried about your bruises. “It’s okay, Sam,” you breathed against his lips. “I’m not a piece of glass… You know Dr. Talbot cleared me…” you said suggestively, grinding your hips against him and earning the slightest little whimper. It was like music to your ears.  
He pulled away so that he could see your face, looking at you with gentle eyes. “You sure, baby?” he asked.   
But his question still made you reconsider… for a moment. “I am if you are,” you murmured back, nodding. He brought his face back to yours for another kiss before sliding your shirt off over your head and then allowing you to do the same with his.   
You both stood up and eagerly undressed each other’s lower halves before Sam picked you up and wrapped you around his waist, continuing his attack on your lips as he fell to his knees and laid you back against the floor below. “So beautiful,” he whispered, trailing kisses down your neck while he rutted against you, his hard cock teasing your wet folds.   
Carding your fingers through his shaggy hair, you arched up into him, needing more friction. “Sam, please,” you whined as his lips continued their path down your torso, stopping to give attention to each of your breasts. Then he moved on until his head was between your thighs, and smiled up at you before opening his mouth and burying his tongue in your pussy, turning you into a moaning, writhing mess. “ _Fuck, Sam_ ,” you hissed, tightening your grip around his hair. “Please fuck me,” you panted, not wanting to release before you had him inside of you.   
He lingered between your legs a little longer before crawling back up to face you and placing a tender kiss on your lips, allowing you to taste yourself. Once he lined himself up with your entrance, he slowly pushed the head of his dick into you, waiting for you to give him some kind of signal of approval to keep going.   
Sam got that signal when you wrapped your legs around him and pulled him in deeper, groaning in delight at the feeling of him stretching your inner walls like no one before. Both of you felt like you were made for each other when he was finally buried to the hilt and started moving at a gradual pace.   
You felt your orgasm building quickly, with Sam’s steady thrusts and the friction of his pelvis on your clit bringing you over the edge. As your release crashed over you, you raked your nails across Sam’s shoulders and arched your back, and he took hold of you and rolled the two of you over so that you were on top of him while he rode out his own orgasm. You were both breathing heavy when you finally untangled yourselves from each other and migrated into the bedroom.   
Lying next to Sam with your head on his chest, you were playing with his fingers and losing yourself in thought. _How could his timer still be running when you were this good together?_  
Sam noticed your silence. “I’ll cover it if you want,” he suggested, thinking back to the sleeve that covered yours before they had to cut it off. “If it’ll help you think about it less…”  
“Even if you cover it, the countdown remains the same. And I’m sure you already marked it on your calendar before we met,” you argued.   
Your boyfriend shook his head. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “But if you want to, we can take a mini-vacation and hole ourselves up inside that day.”  
“No, that’s okay. I think I’d rather just not see it…” you admitted. “I don’t want to drive myself up the wall thinking about it.”  
*  
The next time you saw Sam’s timer, it read _**22:19:07:41**_. You were alone in his hospital room that night, having ditched your race when Meg called to tell you what had happened. Someone had attacked him while Meg and Cas were trying to help another victim, and now he was here, in a hospital bed, just like you had been not long ago.   
Dr. Talbot joined you after a few moments. “He’s not going to know who I am when he wakes up, is he?” you suspected. _That was why his timer was still going…_ Then you remembered the numbers on his arm. “He’s not going to wake up for a while, huh?” you amended.   
She shrugged. “I wish I could say, I really do… But there’s just no way of knowing right now,” she told you sadly.  
Sighing, you reached down to take your unconscious boyfriend’s hand in yours. “I never got to tell him…” you mumbled to yourself, squeezing his fingers.   
“Tell him what?” the doctor asked, her brows furrowing.   
“That I love him.”


	6. In Sickness & Health Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally understand why your soulmate’s timer didn’t match yours, but are you and Sam going to let it stop you?

You slumped against the steering wheel when you got back in your car after visiting hours ended. Technically you weren't an immediate family member, so you weren’t allowed to be there beyond then. It pissed you off, considering you were at that hospital when you zeroed out on said patient. But he hadn’t zeroed out on you, so you couldn’t do anything.   
Nothing but pick up your phone to call your brother. “Hey, Dean?” you croaked when he answered.   
“Huh?” his voice was dripping with concern as soon as he picked up. “Kazzy, what’s wrong?”  
“Are you home?” was all you could say. You needed to talk to him about this in person.   
“Yeah, I’m at my apartment, what’s up?”  
“I’ll be there in twenty. I just really need to talk to you.” Then you hung up, wiping the tears from your eyes before you got going.   
Dean was waiting outside the door to his apartment by the time you arrived, pulling you into the biggest hug. You couldn’t hold it in anymore-- you just started sobbing into his chest while he pulled you inside. Once you calmed down, Dean brought you a glass of water and probed, “What's going on, Kazzy?”  
You took a few gulps of the water and let out a deep breath before confessing, “I've um… I've been keeping something from you.”  
He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “[Y/N], you know you can talk to me about anything,” he coaxed gently.   
“I don’t know, you get pretty touchy whenever I bring up my zeros…”  
“So it's about that EMT you’ve been seeing, huh?”  
His words caught you off guard, and even more so the tone in which he said them. “Wait, how do you know?”  
Sneering, he replied, “You're not that sneaky, Kaz.”  
“You’re not pissed?” you wondered, knowing what Sam had told you he had said to Meg about the whole subject.   
“I could tell you were happy… And with all the shit with dad… I wasn't going to take away anything that made you smile… But what happened, did he zero out?” he asked, getting down to the thick of things.   
You wanted to start crying all over again. “No, he still has three weeks left…” you choked out, voice barely above a whisper.   
“Then what happened?”  
“He was attacked,” was all you could manage to get out before breaking down again, burying your face in your hands while you hunched over.   
“Oh my god, _what_?! Were you with him?!” he exclaimed in fear. You shook your head, _no_. “Is he okay?” he asked next, even though he already had a suspicion of what the answer was. You shook your head again, _no_ , and your brother pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back. “He will be. He has to be,” he tried to comfort you with the words he knew you wanted to hear.   
“Even if he does wake up, he’s not gonna know who I am,” you wept. “That’s why he didn’t zero out on me… It has to be… And now he’s gonna meet his soulmate in three weeks, and I’ll be alone…”  
“That’s not gonna happen, Kaz. You’re gonna walk in there three weeks from now and he’s gonna fall in love with you all over again.”  
*  
Twelve days later, you got a text from Sam’s sister Jo with an update. _*He’s awake. Family only still. Sorry :(*_  
Dean instantly noticed your change in demeanor and dragged you out behind the shop. “News?” he pried.   
“Yeah,” you nodded.   
“Good? Bad? Ugly?”   
You shook your head. “I don’t know. But Sam’s awake. He’ll see his soulmate in about a week and a half,” you replied. That was all you could think about since the last time you saw your boyfriend _(could you even still call him that?)_ \-- when he would zero out. At this point, you were sure he wouldn’t zero out on you, and you didn’t even know if you wanted to go see him before it happened.  
Dean was just as convinced that he had to get you to the hospital to see Sam at the perfect moment. Maybe that’s why he was relieved three days later when you said that you _could_ go see him, but that you weren’t ready yet. But he was counting from what he last knew Sam’s timer to read, and he knew when you _needed_ to be ready by. So he swiped the information from your phone and forwarded to himself before deleting the evidence, taking mental note of the room number and the words _*no visitation limits*_.  
Another three days later, Dean recognized the off-duty medic that had told him about your countdown coming into the shop with (presumably) her fiance. “Oh, you,” Dean said sarcastically upon greeting her at the desk. “What can I do for you today?”  
The dark-haired, blue-eyed man next to Meg smiled at Dean before responding, “Just some routine maintenance. Heard this was the best place in town.”  
“And I needed to get some meddling off of my chest,” Meg butted in. “Can I be honest with you, now, Dean?”  
“Uh, sure,” he stuttered, taken aback. “It’s about my sister, isn’t it?” he guessed.   
Her lip curled up in a smile. “I knew we understood each other,” she said smugly. “You and I both know Sam’s about to zero out in a couple of days.”  
“What does this have to do with it?” he wondered.   
“You need to get that dumb bitch to the hospital for when he does.”  
Dean’s jaw clenched with rage at hearing her badmouth his sister that way, but he shoved it to the side on account of the fact that Meg was right. He needed to get you to the hospital in time to see your soulmate when he zeroed out. Because he knew you’d do the same for him if the roles were reversed.  
He had exchanged numbers with Meg so that she and Dean could nail down exactly when Sam was supposed to zero out— it was this weekend, giving him the perfect opportunity to take you on a trip. “What do you mean, a trip?” you questioned him that Friday night.   
Your brother glanced at his watch. **_00:16:18:43_**. “We both know what happens tomorrow. I want to take you on a trip, just the two of us, to get your mind off of it.”  
“Okay, sure, but what kind of trip?” you inquired.   
“The surprise kind.”  
You raised a brow. “Since when do you plan surprise trips?”   
“Since I can’t stand to watch my little sister sit around depressed while…” he didn't finish his sentence. “I just hate knowing how much pain you’re in…” he corrected himself. “And I wanna help.”  
“Four minutes, Dean.”  
“Even more so. You’re my best friend, Kaz. I love you too much to watch you go through this alone.”  
The next morning, you woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee. You trudged out of your room sleepily to find your brother in the kitchen cooking a big breakfast.  
“Morning, Kaz,” he called out cheerily. “Let’s eat and we’ll get going.”  
“Mmm,” you replied, your brain not fully awake and processing anything.  
You ate and showered, meeting Dean in his living room when you were ready to go. “Where are we headed?”  
“First, we’re going to the go-kart track so I can kick your butt. Then later this afternoon, I have your surprise.  
“Whatever you say, old man. You’re gonna lose,” you taunted.  
“Hey! Four minutes!” Dean exclaimed with a chuckle as you got into the car.  
Go-karting was the most fun you’d had in weeks; you even let Dean win a round or two. When it was time to leave, Dean pulled a bandana out of his pocket. “Turn around.”  
“Seriously? A blindfold?”   
“Yes, I’m dead serious about my surprise.” He tied the bandana around your eyes and closed you in the impala. You heard him get in the driver’s seat and start driving, Robert Plant’s legendary vocal cords filling the space of the cab.  
It didn’t take too long to get to your destination and before you knew it, Dean was stopping the car. “Am I allowed to take this blindfold off yet?” you asked.  
“In a sec, let me help you get out first.” He came over to open your door and take your hand as you stood up out of the car, closing the door behind you before he untied the bandana around your eyes and you saw yourself standing at the entrance to the hospital.   
You glared at your brother before trying to make a run for it, but his long legs were faster than yours and he tackled you to the ground. “Dean, I’m not going!” you yelled at him, trying to roll out from underneath him.   
But he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes. “Can’t believe you’re making me do this,” he muttered as he carried you inside.   
“I don’t want to be here for this, Dean,” you protested angrily, slapping at his back. _It would probably be some hot nurse or something that just started._  
“Yes you do, Kaz. I promise it’ll be worth it.”  
“You can’t know that for sure!” Dean finally put you back on your feet by the time he had you cornered in the elevator, and you noticed that Meg and Cas, Sam’s coworkers, were the other two occupants of the small space. “What is this, an intervention?” you asked sarcastically.   
All three of them glanced at each other before Meg shrugged and said, “Yeah, I won’t sugarcoat it, that’s exactly what this is.”   
“And what makes all of you so sure about this?” you questioned, your voice shaky.   
“You’re just going to have to trust us,” Meg assured you, pressing the button for Sam’s floor and blocking you from making a run for it.  
The elevator ride was short, but you pouted the whole time. When the doors opened, you refused to move. Until Meg and Dean each grabbed an arm, Cas looking on apologetically, and dragged you to the door of Sam’s room, shoving you in before closing and blocking off the door behind you.   
You glared at your brother and his accomplices out of the small window of the door before turning around to see that you and Sam were the only two in the room, and hearing the muffled sound of Dean’s watch going off from the other side of the door while you and Sam locked eyes. Then, after a moment, he glanced down at his forearm, and the fresh set of zeros that adorned it. But you didn’t know they were fresh.  
Until he said, “Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting _that_ to happen when I zeroed out.”  
It felt like it took you forever to actually process his words. “Wait, you… Just now?” you fumbled for words, in complete disbelief that Dean had been right after all. Something else he was guaranteed to hold over your head for the rest of your lives. But at the same time, you couldn’t have been more relieved.   
Sam nodded, a glint of happiness in his eyes-- quickly replaced by doubt. “Did you not?” His voice was full of fear.  
You walked over to his hospital bed and pulled up a chair, taking his hand in yours and showing him your matching zeros. “You don’t know who I am, do you, Sam?” you asked gently.   
Furrowing his brow, he shook his head. “Am I supposed to?” And just like that, the devastation and dread was back. Sam noticed you tense up. “I’m sorry… the doctors said there might be some holes in my memory… But how can we know each other already?”  
Looking down, you took a deep breath before trying to explain things. “My name is [Y/N] Smith. We met when I zeroed out on you 138 days ago. And you were determined that it happened for a reason, so you convinced me to go out with you… So I did, and I fell in love with you… And then, three weeks ago, you had your accident… And I’ve been terrified to come see you ever since…” you admitted, sniffling and wiping the corners of your eyes by the end of your confession.  
Sam squeezed his grip around your hand. “There’s no reason to be afraid anymore,” he comforted you despite not knowing you the way you knew him. “We’re it for each other, aren’t we? And we’re together again now.”  
You shook your head, trying not to fall apart. “But you don’t remember me…”   
He used his free hand to grasp your chin between his fingers and tilt your head back up to face him. “I will. Eventually. And even if I don’t, then I get to fall in love with you all over again.”   
You didn’t understand how someone with amnesia who had just come out of a coma could be so confident, but then again it reflected the way he was when he first spoke to you about the subject all those months ago. “I don’t want you to feel obligated…”  
Sam actually laughed at that one. “I don’t. If you say we were good together before my incident, then I have no reason to believe we wouldn’t still be good together. Especially now.”   
And you finally smiled. “You really think so?” your voice cracked.   
Nodding, he replied, “Yeah, I do. So how about we start catching up?”  
Butterflies filled your stomach. “Okay, yeah, um…” you stuttered nervously, unsure where to start. “There’s um… Well, there’s something I think I maybe should’ve told you when we were dating… But I kept it from you because I didn’t want you to worry about me, the way my family worries…” You decided you’d start off with the secret he should’ve known all along. “I’m a street racer. Well, in my spare time. I’m an auto mechanic at my family’s shop during the day, where I work alongside my twin brother, Dean, and my overbearing father, John,” you rambled.  
“Did we meet because you were in an accident?” he wondered.   
“Yeah, but it wasn’t racing-related. I was on my way to work in the morning and I was in a hit and run,” you explained.   
“So… Are you good, then?”  
“Huh? Oh, yeah I’m fine,” you reassured him. Your injuries hadn’t been nearly as dramatic as his.   
He chuckled. “No, I meant are you a good racer? Or driver, or whatever…” he clarified.   
Now it was your turn to giggle. “Oh!” you said, embarrassed.   
“She’s the best!” Dean’s voice called from a tiny crack in the door before it slammed shut again, causing you and Sam to share a laugh.   
*  
Five weeks later, you and Sam were cuddled up on your couch after having shared a home-cooked meal, now watching a movie together. In that time, he had been determined to relearn everything about you, and you fell in love with that determination, craving the day that you would finally hear those three words from him so that you could say them back.  
He turned to face you and, after a moment of contemplation, pulled your lips to his, initiating a deep kiss. You eagerly leaned into it, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his. Sam’s expression was full of awe when he finally let go for air. “What?” you wondered, seeing something that resembled excitement in his eyes.   
“I… It all… Everything…” he fumbled for words, raising more questions in your head than he answered. “I remember now…” he finally stuttered out.   
“What?” you squeaked in a combination of disbelief and elation.   
Sam was back on you within seconds, kissing you hungrily as if it would give him more life. “I love you so much,” he murmured against your lips while he pulled you into his lap.   
“I love you, Sam,” you whimpered back as he lifted you up to carry you to the bedroom.   
He gently laid you back against the mattress, marveling at you while he hovered over you. “I’m so sorry…” he started to apologize when you pressed your finger against his lips.   
“None of this is either of our faults. Okay? Besides, I should be the sorry one.”  
Furrowing his brow, he responded, “Why? Because you didn’t tell me about your racing?” You nodded sheepishly. “It’s okay. I get why.” He leaned back down to kiss you again, soft and slow to show you that he meant what he said. “I really do love you,” he whispered against your lips before adding smugly, “Told you everything would be okay…”  
“I don’t know if I would say everything’s okay…” you sneered, curling your fingers in Sam’s hair. “But we are together. And I love you, too. I wanted to tell you before, but--”   
Now it was Sam’s turn to interrupt you. “It’s okay, baby,” he cooed. “Now let me show you how much I feel the same way…”  
Sam kissed over every inch of skin that he revealed while he slowly undressed you, pausing between each article of material to strip off his own clothes as well. Once you were completely naked before him, he placed more tender kisses across your body, worshipping you with his lips. When he made his way back up to face you, he brushed over your body with his fingertips, tickling you just enough to make you giggle and shy away.   
He snickered to himself before moving his hand further down your body, stopping at your inner thigh when he pressed his lips to yours, the tingle of butterflies spreading through your chest. Pulling away, his head drifted back to your breasts, his lips closing around one nipple while one of his arms propped himself up over you and the other sunk two digits into your wet heat, twisting and curling and getting you ready for him.   
Sam returned to your mouth to muffle your moans with his lips while he continued to work you open. “Sam, please,” you panted against him, arching your back into his fingers. “Wanna feel you…”   
“I know honey,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers, dripping with your juices. He sucked his fingers into his mouth before giving you a devious grin and lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you after two months of celibacy. The feeling filled you with the most delicious pleasure-pain while your pussy stretched to accommodate him.   
“Oh, Sam,” you moaned out as he reached up to pin your hands above your head and intertwine your fingers while he started thrusting in and out of you at a slow pace, sucking love bites into the crook of your neck. Maybe it was just because you hadn’t had sex since before his accident, or maybe it was because he was _literally_ making love to you, but you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching.   
Sam stilled when he felt you clench down around his dick as the rubber band in your core snapped, returning to your face to swallow back your cries before fucking into you while he chased his own climax. As you both rode out your highs, Sam moved his grip around your waist and rolled the two of you onto your sides, pulling you impossibly closer.   
With your hands now freed, you placed them gently on either side of Sam’s face, a tingle of ecstasy running through you when he leaned into your touch. “So you remember everything, huh?” you murmured gently.   
He nodded slightly, his lips still formed in a tight smile. “Yeah. And I still couldn’t be more sure about us.”   
“Shut up,” you snickered. “There’s a lot that comes with my racing side, so you better be okay with it…” you teased.  
“Baby, I’ll be at every race from now on,” he replied happily, perhaps even with a twinge of excitement at the idea.   
*  
For the next month, Sam kept true to his word, supporting you at every weekend race you were up against Chuck. You were actually quite shocked at how much he and Dean got along, even though Dean was the one majorly responsible for shoving the two of you back to each other. They almost acted like they were actually brothers, rather than just by association. But you couldn’t be happier that that was the case, because on the other hand, John was still furious about your continued racing (which he knew about thanks to Chuck and Gabe).   
You noticed that he had started scheduling you less and less, eventually getting fed up with his childish attitude. You came in with Dean one morning even though you weren’t scheduled-- you knew your father would be there and you intended to get the hours you deserved. And secretly, you knew Dean was supposed to be zeroing out today, too, which you obviously had to be present for.   
But you had some good time to yell at your father-boss before that moment came, and you’d be damned if you didn’t get your way. You confronted your father while he was behind the shop smoking a cigarette. “Are you gonna fire me or what?” you hissed angrily, your brother right behind you wearing a stoic expression. He never wanted this, but John deserved it with the way he was treating you lately.   
John instantly dropped the half-smoked cigarette on the pavement, crushing it with his foot as he turned to face you. “How about you check your tone, first?” he replied just as angrily.   
You shook your head. “You don’t get to talk to me like I’m a kid anymore. I’m thirty years old, so if I want to make my own decisions, you have to let me.”  
“Why should I when you make terrible decisions?” he yelled at you.   
“Terrible decisions?! What are you talking about? The racing?” you yelled back at your father, fully aware that’s what he was talking about, but refusing to let him belittle your passion. “Need I remind you that not once have I gotten injured from racing. Instead, the near-death accident _I_ got into was because _you_ couldn’t be bothered to run your own shop.”  
You were unable to register his movement until it was too late, and his calloused palm stung your skin when it came into contact with your cheek, sending you off balance. Dean was right there to catch you, instantly putting himself between you and John. You could tell your twin was getting ready to throw a punch before Benny and Ash rushed outside to pull all three of you away from each other. “That’s enough!” Benny shouted. “Now what’s goin’ on here?”   
“If you ever lay a hand on her again, I swear to god,” Dean growled at his father through clenched teeth.   
“I’m sorry, you did what now, boss-man?” Ash interrogated, crossing his arms and distancing himself from John and closer to you and your twin.   
Benny made his way over to Dean and placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go call [Y/N]’s boyfriend while Ash and I keep the peace so she can say what she needs to say?” he suggested.   
Dean only agreed because he couldn’t stand to look at his father right now, and he knew you still had more to say to him. Instead he tried to focus on the count on his arm. _**00:00:01:46**_. But he wasn’t going anywhere except back to the impala where you had left your phone-- he had to get Sam here after what just happened. He dialled Sam, but it wasn’t Sam who picked up the phone. “Hey, [Y/N], what’s up?” a soft feminine voice chimed, making him look back down at his arm again.   
“Dean, actually,” he stuttered nervously. “Hey, um… Weird question, but--”  
“You zeroed out just now, didn’t you?” she guessed. “I had a feeling she knew who it was. Couldn’t look me in the eye without this mischievous smile on her face. So, Dean. What’s up?” she tried to remain casual, knowing he must have been calling Sam from your phone for a reason.   
Suddenly the man couldn’t even remember why he had called. He hadn’t even gotten her name yet. “Uh, who am I speaking to?” he inquired.   
“Jo Wesson. Sam’s sister. We’re at mom and pop’s right now, he’s in the shower. Did [Y/N] need something?”  
Yes! He reminded himself. “I just… there’s been a… an incident at work, and I just thought Sam might be worried about her, that’s all,” he said.   
“Oh my god!” she worried. “What happened, is she okay?”  
“She… will be, yeah. I just think maybe you and Sam should meet us back at her place and we can all talk.”  
“Yeah, sure, just give us like thirty minutes to an hour. I’ll go tell Sam.” When Dean came back around to grab you, Benny and Ash were emptying their lockers, leaving John to run the auto shop single-handedly.   
You, Dean, Sam and Jo were all hanging out at your apartment later that day. Sparks were flying fast between your brother and Sam’s sister, and you couldn’t be happier. It proved to you how little you needed your job at the family business. “Dean, I hope you know I’m quitting Roadsmith’s,” you told him.   
“Well, yeah, I assumed we would,” he replied.  
You raised a brow. “We?” you wondered.   
“Always,” he said without a second thought.   
*  
“So you claim to have some information we’d be interested in,” Officer Mills stated to the witness in front of her. “Regarding Ms. Smith’s hit-and-run?”  
“That’s correct, but more than just that,” the brunet with whiskey eyes answered. “There’s so much more that he’s responsible for.”  
“Such as?” Officer Hanscum chimed in.   
“The attack on Sam Wesson while he was on an emergency response call.”  
The women’s eyes both widened at hearing the two incidents in connection to one another. “Anything else?” Jody probed.   
Gabriel nodded sadly before beginning to speak about the largest of Chuck’s offenses, at least to him. “There’s a woman; she’s zeroed out on someone by now, but that someone isn’t the father of her child… I am… So, uh, Mr. Shurley used that information to coerce me into sabotaging Ms. Smith. It started with the hit-and-run, but I didn’t mean for it to be such a serious accident. So we toned it down to just some family meddling. But then he asked me to…”   
“He asked you to do what?” Donna questioned.   
“He wanted to take it too far. And I said no. But then he went and got someone else to do it anyway.”  
“This is the attack on Mr. Wesson that you’re referring to?” Jody asked to clarify. Gabe nodded. “And why was Mr. Shurley so intent on sabotaging Ms. Smith? Did he have some sort of vendetta?”  
“Yeah, a personal vendetta. She’d proven herself to be a better competitor than he was and he didn’t take kindly to being shown up by a young woman.”  
Jody raised a brow, looking over her notepad. “When you say competitor, what exactly do you mean?”  
Gabe paused for a moment, deciding how to proceed without busting them for the illegal street racing. He stuck with the truth as much as possible. “They would go down to that approved dirt track and do some drag racing. She proved herself to be a better driver on multiple occasions.”  
“Right, so that’s why he started with the car accident idea,” the blonde concluded.   
The man nodded. “That’s right. Stolen car and everything. But he’s also been blackmailing the mother of my child, and I can’t let it go on any further. He’s been getting more and more extreme in terms of what he’ll do to win, and I truly think that he poses a danger to multiple parties.”  
The women looked at each other before Donna leaned forward on the table and said, “You do realize that we’ll have to incur some sort of charges against you for the hit-and-run, despite being coerced into it?”  
He nodded again. “I understand.”  
*  
Two weeks later, you and Sam found yourselves back at the location of your first date for Meg and Cas’s wedding reception. Thankfully, after you and Dean quit working at the auto shop, Bobby and Ellen were kind enough to take you on as bartenders at _Heaven’s Basement_. So while you were Sam’s plus one for the wedding, Dean and Jo were behind the bar catering to the small group of guests. Meg and Cas had wanted an intimate event with just close friends and family, and they were determined to be the first party to debut the event space owned by the Wessons.  
You and Sam were sitting on a loveseat near the fire pits watching the sun set over the skyline. “It’s so beautiful,” you told him.  
“Yeah, it really is,” Sam replied. You turned your head to smile at him and saw he was already looking at you.   
“Sam, I meant the sunset,” you giggled.  
“I know. I didn’t.”  
You rolled your eyes before you felt a presence over your shoulder and looked up to see Meg, a vision in her wedding dress, holding her bouquet. She placed it in your lap with a wink, patted you on the shoulder, and walked back to her new husband. “Subtle,” you commented under your breath, snickering to yourself while you fidgeted with the bouquet.  
“Yeah, Meg has a knack for that,” Sam chuckled back. “But you know what that means.”  
Turning to face him, you playfully raised your eyebrows at him. “Oh, yeah?”  
Sam shrugged. “What do you think?”  
You looked at him in disbelief. “About getting married?” you scoffed.   
“Why not?” He questioned.  
You shrugged. “I mean, I never really thought about it. My mom died when we were young and Dad just never remarried. And then after my timer activated, I kept it covered, so… I don’t know, I guess I’m just not entirely sure I would be a good wife…”   
Sam sneered. “If you're as good a wife as you are a girlfriend, I'd be the luckiest man in the world. I already am,” he reassured you before pulling your face to his for a kiss.  
*  
 _ **-Six Months Later-**_  
You’d just finished yet another practice run, paranoid that you still weren’t good enough to race on a professional track. But somehow Gabe seemed very confident when he extended the driving offer from the sponsor he worked with. Initially suspicious, you had sat down to have lunch with your former enemy; evidently Chuck had been much more than just a petty loser, and an increasingly concerned Gabriel went to the cops, sending Chuck to jail and getting himself a nasty probationary period.   
Now you found yourself at the Daytona Speedway, climbing out of the stock car through the window and walking over to your pit crew. “I don’t know, Dean, she just doesn’t drive like Baby,” you told your brother skeptically.   
“Yeah, well, you can’t make money in Baby,” he snarked back.   
“I could’ve if Rowena had let Crowley keep taking bets…” you mumbled under your breath. “But I know you love living at the beach.”  
“I might get tired of it in another few months,” he joked. “C’mon Kazzy, what’s really got you overthinking?”  
“I haven’t talked to Sam in a couple of days,” you admitted finally.   
“Okay, and?”  
“I know he’s my soulmate and everything but I can’t help thinking that he might find this all too much and change his mind.”  
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Dean told you with a smile, looking over your shoulder at something.  
You turned around to see Sam headed your way, and you instantly started sprinting towards him, having not seen him in a month since you and Dean moved everything out here before the racing season started. As soon as you got close enough, you jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he whirled you around. “I thought you weren’t coming until next week!” you exclaimed. “How’d they even let you in here, anyway?”  
“Excuse you, I work here now, miss,” he sassed, placing a kiss on your temple.   
“Doing what?” you sneered.   
“Emergency medic. You know, in case you cause any accidents out on the track.” He winked before setting you down. “Plus Jo was getting a little impatient to see Dean again.”  
“Did you guys get settled in at the house?” you inquired, fixing the collar of his polo shirt.   
“Mhm,” he hummed with a nod. “And you and I probably don’t want to be anywhere near that place when Dean gets back and sees Jo.”  
“Ugh!” you pretended. “Well, I mean, we can always go book a honeymoon suite…” you trailed off, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.   
Sam smiled. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”  
*  
 _ **-Ten Months Later-**_  
Sweat was running down your neck and Dean’s voice was in your ear. “C’mon Kazzy, four more turns. You’ve got this.”  
You narrowed your eyes and backed off the throttle slightly, pitching your car into the first turn and leaning back on the gas heavily halfway through. Moments later, you were in the second turn, following the same procedure. The third turn came just as quickly.  
As you exited the third turn, Dean’s voice was back in your ear. “One halfway through the third turn. You can do it.”  
You rolled your foot on the gas pedal, holding your steering wheel steady as you entered the final turn. You didn’t let off the gas this time, trusting your gut about the tires holding their grip-- which they did. You exited the fourth and final turn just a few yards ahead of the car behind you.  
With your adrenaline flowing and your heart racing as you crossed the finish line and saw the checkered flag waving at you, you could barely hear your pit crew cheering through your headset as you slowed the car back into the pits. Dean and Benny were the first ones to hoist you onto their shoulders to celebrate your victory, and you recognized an unexpected yet familiar face in the crowd of spectators flooding the field.   
“Dad?!” you exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” Dean and Benny set you down when they heard you call out to your father, flanking you just in case he tried something like the last time.  
“Gabe invited me. I gotta say, kiddo, you’re a great racer.”  
“What made you change your mind?” you wondered.   
“I realized I was being an ass. Right around the time that Dean and Benny quit, and you guys took bartending jobs and started to avoid me,” he explained. “You look so much like your mother. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve got my attitude through and through. But every time I looked at you, I saw her and I felt the pain of losing her all over again. I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.  
“But when you guys moved down here almost a year ago, it was like losing you when I didn’t have to, and I decided that I was going to find a way to make it up to you. So… I’ve watched every race you’ve had and saw just how wrong I was for treating you like a porcelain doll... I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I hope you can let me try to make up for all the bullshit I put you through.” He looked truly apologetic and hopeful, tears brimming in his eyes.   
You were speechless-- this was one of the last things you would’ve expected after not seeing the man for so long, after what happened the last time you did see him. “Um… I don’t know what to say, Dad…” you stuttered. “Wait, you… You really watched all my races?”  
He nodded. “I never should’ve been so hard on you. I had no reason to worry-- you’re an amazing driver.”  
Hesitantly, you stepped closer to your father to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a forgiving embrace. “Thank you,” you murmured.   
“I love you, kiddo. And I promise I’m gonna be here for you more often.”  
“What about the shop?” you asked as you let go of each other.   
“I’m selling. Gabe’s people- and I guess your people- offered me a gig tuning up their regular fleet, outside of your racer, of course. So I took it to be closer to you guys. Now I can give you the support you’ve always deserved from me.”  
Nodding, you replied, “You should come have dinner with us tonight at the house. You can meet Sam.”  
“Or you could just introduce us now,” Sam’s voice blurted from behind you, catching you by surprise as he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed the top of your head. He looked at John with a tight-lipped expression on his face until Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded to him, signalling to Sam that it was okay.   
“So you must be Sam,” John concluded, extending his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”  
Sam kept his hand firm around the older man’s while they shook hands. “You as well,” he replied curtly.   
“Well, babygirl,” your father began to excuse himself. “I’ve got some of my own arrangements to get sorted out, but I’ll see you at dinner. Kay?”   
“Okay,” you exhaled, nodding at him. “I’ll text you the address later.” He nodded back in your direction before disappearing into the crowd again.   
You turned in Sam’s arms to face him. “You okay?” he had to ask, knowing what all had happened between you and your father.   
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “So, when do I get my first place prize?” you flirted, wiggling your eyebrows.   
“Well, I can’t exactly give it to you while your dad’s around,” he teased. “But, if you wanna bail on the _formal_ Winner’s Circle…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that caps off this set of short au stories, folks! find me on tumblr @padalelli to submit a request!


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